


Carry This Feeling

by Awriterwrites, dimpled_halo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Harry, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Famous Harry, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Los Angeles, M/M, Non-Famous Louis, Public Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spanking, Strangers to Lovers, Writer Louis, alcohol mention, and forced and maybe a little bit of a bad habit?, but it's a little vague because the flirting isn't exactly unwanted, drug mention, it's just a little rude, shameless flirting, some unwanted advances, unwanted flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimpled_halo/pseuds/dimpled_halo
Summary: There’s something about Louis Tomlinson that makes Harry feel unhinged. It’s in the other man’s stare, in the way he looks at Harry like he knows he’s hiding something. Like he’s not really all he says he is.Harry’s not so sure it’s fear he’s feeling. Maybe it’s something deeper. Ever since Louis walked into his house, he’s felt on edge. He’s just being himself after all, and that’s usually enough to get just about anyone to drop their pants. But...it’s clearly not working on Louis Tomlinson. It dredges up something oily and unpleasant inside Harry. He doesn’t like it.He’s got to lock that shit down tight.***Harry knows, objectively, that he shouldn't try to get his ghostwriter into bed.  He knows.  But...he finds it hard to resist temptation when Louis waltzes into his home and his life and turns everything upside down.  And, as it turns out, Louis might just need a little turning upside down too.





	Carry This Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juliusschmidt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/gifts).



> Firstly, we'd like to apologize for the long delay in getting this done for you but it's been a labor of love that is very near and dear to us and we hope that you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed writing it. Thank you to our betas Gina and Tabby for all their help, their attention to details, and their feedback! 
> 
> The title comes from the song "Leather and Lace" by Stevie Nicks.
> 
> You can listen to [this playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mrsjackylopez/playlist/5fQVTLek9NfnyBiEQbPHT8) as you read along. Happy Reading!

_ I have my own life and I am stronger _

_ Than you know _

_ But I carry this feeling _

_ When you walked into my house _

_ That you won't be walking out the door _

_ Still I carry this feeling _

_ When you walked into my house _

_ That you won't be walking out the door _

***Harry***

The windows are open, bringing with them the briny scent of the ocean and the magnolias that line the edges of the spacious yard. Harry looks in the full length mirror in his spacious bedroom, giving his full head of wavy hair a graceful shake.  He examines a fine line that he swears wasn’t there yesterday, the new detail alongside his green eyes is barely noticeable, but Harry notices. He notices every single change to his face, his body, the  _ person  _ he’s worked so hard to become. Hours in his home gym and swimming in the ocean just outside his door, gallons of sunscreen and thousands spent on meditation and therapy have to count for something.  

So, Harry looks in the mirror and he looks for changes, signs of the man he’s becoming, signs that he really isn’t the same person he used to be.  

He smooths his hands over the sheer ivory button up, appreciating the lines of ink decorating his pale skin beneath, and turns to check his arse in the full length reflection.  _ Fabulous _ . His broad shoulders showcase the glossy curls that cascade down his back and the cut of his shirt makes his waist look slim and appealing, stretching over his long torso like a second layer of skin.  

“I’d fuck me,” he says to the man staring back at him, ignoring the twist of nerves that slithers inside him. Scoffing at himself, he turns away and pads down the stairs to the kitchen, checking the clock to see that the ghostwriter is due any minute.

He had stared at his agent dumbly when he had suggested the concept of a ghostwritten autobiography. “Why the fuck do I need a  _ ghostwriter  _ to tell my story? I’m bloody capable of doing that myself, Reg.”

Reginald simply stared at him with that look he gives Harry when he thinks Harry is being a child. He’s not, by the way, a child, despite what his entire new, thank you very much, team still seems to think, no matter what he does to convince them that he’s matured — his days of being a wild child actor are far behind him. “Babe. I know you are capable, it’s just…”

“What?” Harry demanded, ire rising quickly in his bloodstream, the heat of it like the annoying sting of an insect.  

Reg huffed out a breath. “We just need to spin this the right way. It has to be perfect so your past...er...indiscretions don't eclipse the fact that you're in a new film.”

Harry stared at his agent, noticing how his ruddy cheeks were even more red than usual and the way his shock of orange hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in days, and he realized that Reg was really just doing this for him. He wanted the best for Harry, unlike the people that used to be part of his team when he was younger, Reg was on his side.  

“Yeah. Ok. I get it.” And with that, Harry had sealed his fate, accepting the ghostwriter into his home, and his life.

“Mr. Styles?”

“Gloria — I told you to call me Harry,” Harry breathes in and out, just like his meditation coach has taught him, working to keep his nerves at bay. Offering to employ Gloria after she and her husband moved from England to the states had felt like a no-brainer— she’d worked for his mum for years.  Yet, sometimes…he feels like she was sent to spy on him.  And maybe piss him off a little from time to time.

Harry puts the iced tea back in the fridge, hoping the writing guy likes green tea.  

Gloria, has the decency to blush, despite this being the 100th time he’s told her to call him by his first name. “I know, but...it just feels weird.”

Harry gives her a gentle smile and pats her hand. “Get over it.”  

Gloria grins. “Louis Tomlinson is here. I showed him into the living room.”

“Is that his name — the writer?”

“I assume so. That’s how he introduced himself,” she says with a smirk.  

“Nobody likes a smart arse, Gloria.” He picks up the glasses of tea, flipping his head so his shoulder length hair swooshes away from his face.  

Gloria, who has to be at least Harry’s mum’s age, smoothes his hair behind his ear and gives him a pinch on the cheek. “I beg to differ, Mr.  —  _ Harry _ . Manuel likes my smart ass very much.”

“Manuel is a lucky man, Gloria.” Harry shoots his assistant a wink. “See you tomorrow.”

“As you wish, Mr. Styles.”

Harry glares at her over his shoulder. Now she’s just fucking with him.  

He makes his way down the long, dark hallway, the white marble under his bare feet cool and dry. Just before the hall empties into the vast living room, Harry sees the bright blue of the ocean through the wall of windows and he catches his breath. One thing he’s learned over the years is that he is a lucky, lucky man. 

It’s a shame it took him so long to realize it.

The living room is in several shades of white and gray. It’s cool and inviting, but very much  _ not  _ a living room. Harry’s basement rec room is where he  _ lives _ . There, he has posters from all of his favorite films and the walls are painted a calm, butter yellow. Overstuffed gray and black reclining furniture is clustered together in front of a theater sized television. The bar down there is stocked with all of the alcohol Harry could ever want — even though he hardly ever drinks anymore — and the half dozen arcade games are loud and hulking. He loves it.  

His living room is for show. It’s a statement. It says  _ I’m Harry Styles and I’m a grown ass man who doesn’t fuck around _ . At least that’s what Harry hopes it says.  

He walks quietly into the room, the sound of the ocean like music, filling the museum-like space with a serenity that Harry  _ adores _ . He stills before completely entering the room because there, standing at the window, is probably the most attractive human being he’s ever seen. And he’s only seeing the  _ backside  _ of said human.  

And what a backside it is.  

**  
*Louis***

The California sky is electric blue with hues of grey, the sun bright and hot as Louis drives down the coast in a BMW convertible. His hair is whipping around his face in the wind, but it feels refreshing and far from the slow, damp crawl of traffic back home in London. Louis can smell and almost taste the ocean, the salty tang assaulting his senses as the car eats up the highway underneath him. Bob Dylan croons from the speakers as Louis thinks about what got him here, halfway across the world.

“Play nice, Louis,” Stella Bloomsbury, his boss, had admonished. Louis thought if she tried hard enough, Stella could actually hear his eyes roll over the phone line.

Tucking his used boarding pass into his carry-on, waiting for the rental clerk to bring his car around, Louis scoffed into the cell phone, “I have no idea why you feel the need to remind me, Stella.”

He heard the exhalation through the speaker as his boss puffed out a healthy lungful of cigarette smoke. “You know exactly why I need to remind you,  _ Louis _ .” 

A belligerent flush rose to his cheeks as he remembered the last assignment he was sent on. It didn’t exactly...end well. Writing about a celebrity who had left the limelight to take up alpaca farming wouldn’t have necessarily been his first choice, but actually spending time on an alpaca farm? Even worse. Complaining loudly over the phone to his editor about the distinct odor of alpaca poop and the way the farmer/celebrity, who he was writing about, smelled like poop...all while said farmer/celebrity was standing right behind him? Yeah. Didn’t end so well.  

In the end, he took the BMW keys in his hand, assured Stella he would play nice on this trip  _ and  _ that he wouldn’t say anything  _ too  _ inappropriate. Even though he’s not really looking forward to sitting through hours of mindless chatter with some washed up celebrity he hardly even knows. He doesn’t tell Stella that. Hell no. He’s working towards something here. He’s not about to fuck it up with his big fat mouth. Nope. Not this time.

One week. That’s all. One week and Stella promised she’d take another look at Louis’ manuscript. His novel. His big chance. So he said yes. Said yes to LA, said yes to being nice...said yes to ghostwriting an autobiography for a vaguely  familiar sounding name — some washed up young Hollywood star, washed up before he even made a name for himself.  

It’s not that he hadn’t ever heard of Harry Styles. He had. Only because he was British and it was one of those things — British people were  _ supposed  _ to know famous British people. But Louis couldn’t tell you who the actor really was, or what he’d starred in, or what snuffed out his star before it even rose in the smog-filled California sky.  

Thanks to in-flight WiFi, and his trusty laptop, Louis was able to do some research on the bloke so that he’d have some sort of idea of who he was going to be working with. 

Louis rolled his eyes as soon as he opened the first web page. Harry Styles is, apparently, a household name. Hm. Well, Louis wasn’t exactly on top of those things, choosing to ignore most things having to do with television, movies... _ celebrity _ . Harry had risen to fame playing a sexually confused teenager, Ivan, in the show  _ Shame _ . After that he landed a major movie role playing Emma Watson’s love interest in the movie  _ Infinity _ , which made him one of the most in demand actors for teen romance movies.  

Along with the fame, came a lot of media attention, which caused a lot of trouble for Harry. Louis finds all sorts of headlines about Harry being a womanizer, getting into paparazzi scuffles, and being arrested for pot possession. His biggest scandal, however, was when pictures of him leaked revealing an illicit affair with Ben Winston, the director for one of his movies. It was all over the news, and ended less than a year after it had begun. After that there are a slew of photos and articles showing Harry coming out of clubs wasted, stumbling into limos, and hanging on men and women alike. He seemed like a man on the well-worn path to self destruction. Harry Styles eventually disappeared from the spotlight and no one had heard from him until recently, when it was announced he’d been cast in the next Christopher Nolan film.

Louis was able to find a few blogs that had posted various blurry pictures of Harry out and about, but there weren’t many to be seen and Louis could hardly tell it was him, anyway. Fans had different theories about what happened. Some thought the Ben Winston affair was all a stunt and that Harry had wanted out of the teen heartthrob label and the womanizer image his team had created for him. Others theorized that the affair caused Harry to lose a lot of roles he had lined up, and no one wanted to hire him for new ones, which caused him to take a break to work on his re-branding. While still others maintained that Harry was really in love with Ben and that Ben was a weasel who destroyed Harry and his innocence. Louis didn’t know what to think, but he was left with a headache and decided he’d read enough about the guy.  

All that Louis’ research turned up was what he was afraid of: Harry Styles is like all the rest of the has-beens Louis has written about over the years. All Louis can think is  _ bo-ring _ . He just hopes he’ll have time to work on his tan while he’s in Los Angeles.  

The LA traffic is starting to build as the afternoon hour approaches and Louis’ GPS notifies him that his exit is coming up. As soon as he gets off the freeway, the directions lead him through winding streets, the houses around him getting bigger and further apart as he gets closer to the water. The palm trees on either side of the road make for lovely scenery, glimpses of the deep blue ocean between them a big contrast to the grey, rainy London he’d left over 12 hours ago.  

Louis secretly hopes he’ll have time to explore a little, maybe even visit the beach. That would help him forget why he’s really here, something he finds himself doing often — trying to forget why he’s a ghostwriter for a second rate publishing company instead of out chasing his dreams. He’s almost forgotten what it was like to have dreams.  

So, here he is, once again, catering to celebrities the public has mostly forgotten about, depending on Louis to write a book about them so that their careers can pick back up. Yeah, Louis is bitter, because he always wonders why others have made it when he hasn’t. 

It’s not that he absolutely hates his job. It obviously has its perks, getting to travel to different parts of the world is lovely, but he’d rather be doing it to promote his own personal work and not have to deal with stuck up celebrities who depend on Louis to talk them up and make them feel like God’s gift to the world. They’re usually so entitled...so thankless and  _ empty _ . You’d think they’d show a little humility, especially since Louis is essentially writing a book they’re passing off as their own and taking all the credit for. It won’t be the first time that someone in the entertainment industry got rich and famous leeching off of someone else’s talent. Louis, unfortunately, learned  _ that _ the hard way. He rolls his eyes, trying to shake off his bitterness so he can at least enjoy the scenery. Stella’s nasally voice berates him internally,  _ play nice. _

At Siri’s urging, he arrives at a big, black gate with gold handles. As the intercom buzzes and the gates part open, Louis pulls in and drives slowly onto the property, passing a beautiful fountain surrounded by lush gardens on all sides. He takes a deep breath as he parks in the driveway and tries to mentally prepare himself for whatever awaits him inside. He has a feeling it’s going to be a long week.

The jet lag hits Louis as soon as Gloria, the woman with kind brown eyes and a light Spanish accent, who answered the door, excuses herself to get Harry Styles. The couch he was sitting on was so soft and inviting, Louis felt his eyelids get heavy with the sleep he should be getting right now. To prevent himself from being caught catching a snooze in his client’s living room, he stands up, and takes a look around.

The room is nice, simple. Although it doesn’t look like it gets used often, probably only there for decoration and the real living room is in another part of the house. He’s seen it a lot in other mansions. Louis suppresses a yawn as he stands by the window, admiring the beautiful garden that slopes down toward a private beach, the ocean sparkling in the sun beyond.

“Hello,” Louis startles at the deep, rumbling voice that echoes in the room and turns his head over his shoulder and he freezes. Harry Styles is...the pictures he’d seen while doing his research on the plane did him no justice whatsoever — he’s, well, he’s sort of spectacular? Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe him. He’s all sensual lips and broad face and long legs and golden skin and long hair and…

_ Shit _ . Louis needs to take a deep, steady breath to calm himself.  

Louis takes another, more careful, inventory. Yep. Confirmed. Stunning. The man standing just a few feet away from Louis is watching him with slowly blinking eyes, lip caught between square white teeth. His toned arms are nearly bulging out of the obscene shirt he’s wearing — obscene because it’s see-through, showing tattoos scattered over miles of smooth, creamy skin. Louis can’t help but notice the man’s abs, clenched under the sheer fabric, and his eyes trail up again to Harry’s face where his grin is lopsided, showing deep dimples, eyes as green as the palm trees outside, and his hair is swirling around his head in chocolate ringlets. Fuck. He’s... _ magnificent _ .

Suddenly Louis realizes he’s been staring long enough to be considered creepy. He clears his throat, “Hi Mr. Styles, I’m Louis Tomlinson, your ghostwriter,” he introduces himself walking closer to the beautiful man in front of him. Harry smirks knowingly, as if he could read every single thought going through Louis’ head. Great.

“Please, call me Harry,”  Harry says, taking Louis’ hand to shake it. His hand is so soft, handshake firm and lasting maybe a little longer than necessary. “I hope it wasn’t too difficult to find your way here? I know it’s a bit hidden, but I just couldn’t live without this breathtaking view of the ocean right outside the window.”

And there it is. Typical famous person always trying to find a way to shove their wealth in your face. “It was fine, um Harry. I just stopped by to check in with you, I came straight from the airport. I wanted go over our schedule for the week before I head to the hotel. I’m ready to start bright and early tomorrow,” Louis says, slowly pulling his hand from Harry’s grasp. He notices long, well manicured fingers. Of course he has good hands. Of-fucking-course.

Harry’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion, “Hotel? I thought you were gonna be staying here. Gloria’s got the guest room all ready for you,” he says pointing his thumb behind him.

“What? Oh no, thank you but that’s not necessary, the company’s arranged for accommodations not too far from here. I’m all set.” Louis watches as Harry’s face struggles to remain smooth, impassive.

Harry waves his hand, “Nonsense, I’ll call the publisher right now and tell them to cancel.” Harry pulls his cell out of his pocket and starts looking through his contacts, clearly used to getting what he wants, but Louis stops him.

“The publishing company is closed for the day,” Louis informs him, trying his best not to sound annoyed. He really doesn’t want to stay here, the thought of being trapped here in this house, with Harry fucking Styles, unnerves him for some reason. He’s not exactly sure why. It could be the endless legs or the blow job lips, he thinks. Or maybe just the air of entitlement and spoiled snobbery hanging over him. Maybe.

Harry pouts, he fucking  _ pouts,  _ and Louis tries his best not to roll his eyes in front of his client. “Okay, well, you’re still staying. Come on Louis, I’ll show you to your room,” he says, not leaving any room for argument.

Louis stares after him, in a state of disbelief. He weighs his options in that moment. On the one hand he can put his foot down and insist he stay at the hotel, risking alienating Harry and not getting what he needs to get the assignment done. On the other hand, he can just endure staying under the same roof as his client, and risk being in a constant state of annoyance over a spoiled has-been movie star who just happens to look like exactly the kind of guy he’d pull at a club — if Louis were the sort to  _ actually  _ go to clubs. Which he’s not. Which is why he hasn’t gotten laid in a really long time, which really shouldn’t be a part of his decision making process right now.

Louis takes a deep breath and feels his shoulders slump as he resigns himself to his fate for the next week. “I need to get my bag out of the car, let me just…”  Louis turns to walk out of the door he just walked in from, looks like he’s going to be spending the next week in Harry Styles’ house. He’s fucked.

**  
*Harry***

Louis Tomlinson has the most fuckable arse Harry has ever seen.

His mouth looks pretty fuckable too. In fact, Louis Tomlinson looks like, in general, the most fuckable person Harry has seen in a long time.   

This may be a problem.

Harry is sort of a recluse these days, so, to be fair, he doesn’t really get out much to ascertain the fuckable-ness of people, but still. Louis Tomlinson is  _ hot _ . Definitely not what Harry was expecting when Reg said the publisher was sending down the ghostwriter on such short notice. He figures someone who could travel to southern California with less than a week’s notice had no life whatsoever. He was expecting a doddery old man who walked with a cane and had horrible halitosis or maybe even an odd little woman who lived with 32 cats and said the word “actually” all the time. He was not expecting Louis Tomlinson.

The ghostwriter is small and curvy —  _ really  _ curvy — in the best possible way (did Harry mention his arse?). He is also standing in the waning light that is shining off the Pacific, casting diamond shadows around the room, looking like an angel standing in Harry’s sterile living room. Harry almost forgets to breathe when the other man turns to greet him and the entire world stands still for a moment.  

“Louis Tomlinson,” the man says, thrusting out his hand in greeting and when Harry shakes it he feels like he’s grabbing something more...something substantial. But he’s not sure what so he shrugs it off and gives the other man his winning smile — the one that says  _ wouldn’t you like to fuck now? _

Louis doesn’t seem to notice, which is. Huh.  

For some reason, Mr. Tomlinson, arse and writer extraordinaire, is planning on staying at a hotel for the week, which absolutely will not do.  After he manages to convince him to stay, Harry silently hopes that Gloria changed the sheets after last weekend when Zayn and Liam stayed over. Who knows what those two got up to.    
Now, with Louis trailing behind him, down the long hallway to the guest suite, Harry gives an extra wiggle of his arse. He knows that it’s not exactly his best... _ asset _ , but he’s been told it’s more than adequate. Louis coughs behind him and Harry grins to himself.  

“Here we are.” Harry opens the door to the guest room, and, aside from a slightly stuffy feel, the room is immaculate. He sends a silent prayer up to the gods that fashioned the miracle that is Gloria and glides over to the sliding glass door to open it to the ocean breeze. This room has the same view as the living room, a panoramic live action shot of the ocean and the well-manicured landscape that Harry worked so hard to cultivate...it’s practically priceless. Well, not really. Everything has it’s price. But Harry can afford most everything.

After he opens the door and pulls back the gauzy curtains, Harry turns to find Louis looking around the room in amazement. “Will this do?” he asks, completely aware of the condescension creeping into his tone.  

Louis closes his mouth and says, curtly, “This is acceptable.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds on, “Thank you.”

Harry crosses the room, opening the door to the ensuite. He checks to make sure there are toiletries and clean towels. Once satisfied, he leans against the door jamb and rakes his eyes over Louis’ sinful body. He’s wearing too many clothes, for one thing. The clothes he’s wearing are also poorly tailored. Probably off the rack. Harry nearly fake vomits. 

_ Breathe _ . In, out. In, out.   _ You are not that person anymore _ .

He’s supposed to be better than this. He  _ is  _ better than this. He gives himself an internal slap in the face and meets Louis’ eyes. The other man is looking at him with an indecipherable expression. “Are you quite finished?”

Harry isn’t sure what he means. Finished showing Louis to his room? Finished checking out Louis’ poorly fitted pants and trying to decide if he’s a grower or a shower? Um...finished with this whole cockamamie idea of writing his memoirs as a twenty-five year old? He’s sort of finished with the whole thing. “Yeah. I think I am,” he finally says, giving Louis  _ that  _ smile again — which is completely ignored. Again.  

Louis just stares at him, ice in those blue, blue eyes of his. Harry feels something trickle down his spine. He thinks, maybe...maybe, it’s fear? Anxiety? He’s not sure, it’s so unfamiliar but the way Louis is looking at him, like he can almost see through him, it’s a lot. It’s enough to make Harry want to flee the room, gather himself together and make himself calm, cool, and collected again.

He wants to pull the  _ Styles-Effect  _ back over himself — the one that’s gotten him this far in life. The one that makes him irresistable.   

There’s something about Louis Tomlinson that makes Harry feel unhinged. It’s in the other man’s stare, in the way he looks at Harry like he knows he’s hiding something. Like he’s not really all he says he is.  

Harry’s not so sure it’s  _ fear  _ he’s feeling. Maybe it’s something deeper. Ever since Louis walked into his house, he’s felt on edge. He’s just being himself after all, and that’s usually enough to get just about anyone to drop their pants. But...it’s clearly not working on Louis Tomlinson. It dredges up something oily and unpleasant inside Harry. He doesn’t like it.

He’s got to lock that shit down tight.  

“Well,” he says, breezing past Louis toward the door, “Dinner is at 9:00. On the veranda. Don’t be late.”   

Harry closes the door and leans up against it, not even realizing until now that a fine sheen of sweat has started to cover his body. He needs to get rid of some of this... _ icky  _ energy. He decides to head to the other wing of the house to have a nice, rigorous work out. It’s his second of the day, but that’s ok. Whatever it takes, he tells himself, whatever it takes.  

**  
*Louis***

There’s no way in hell Louis is going to have dinner with Harry Styles tonight. It’s not that he’s ungrateful or anything, it’s just that he’s tired as hell and all he wants to do is take a hot shower and sleep as long as his body is capable of. So that’s exactly what he does.

The shower is glorious and steaming hot, and Louis finds it hard to keep his thoughts free of Harry Styles. As much as he may be Louis’ type, physically, the guy is a fucking arrogant little shit, and Louis hates that. He hates the way he walks around like he owns the room, which okay, he does, but still.  

Harry looks at him like he expects Louis to be all over him or something, and as much as he’d love to be all over that body — he really, really would — seeing how stuck up and cocky the guy is just turns Louis off completely. He hates that he was right, that Harry is like the rest of the celebrities he’s met in his line of work — self-absorbed and completely out of touch with how the rest of the world works. Still, Louis tries not to think about those lips and how nice they would look wrapped around his cock as he finishes up his shower.  

As he towels himself off he tries not to think about those fucking massive hands and what they would feel like on his skin.

He throws his dirty clothes in a small hamper in the corner of the ensuite and tries not to think about the deep timbre of his host’s voice and how it would sound whispering filthy, filthy things in his ear.

He tries not to think of all these things as he closes the curtains, wanting to get rid of the natural light as much as possible so that he can have a peaceful night’s rest. He throws on some boxer briefs, definitely not thinking about Harry lying in his own bed in boxer briefs (or less), and settles under the sheets. God the duvet is so fucking soft, Louis could stay here forever. It’s the last thing he thinks of because as soon as his head hits the pillow, he’s out like a light.

 

***

  
A knock on his bedroom door is what wakes Louis up the next morning. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and checks the time — it’s 8am.  

“Mr. Tomlinson?” It’s Gloria.

“Come in!” Louis calls out as he makes sure all private parts are covered by his blanket.

The door creaks open and Gloria emerges. “Sorry to wake you Mr. Tomlinson, but breakfast is ready out on the patio,” she informs him.

“Thank you. And please call me Louis.” Gloria smiles and excuses herself, shutting the door behind her.

With a deep sigh, Louis forces himself to get out of bed and get ready for the day ahead. Given the way Harry was eyeing his professional clothes yesterday like he’d love to burn them in a bonfire, Louis decides he’s safer wearing something that’s more his usual style and goes for his black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt.

Before he leaves the room, Louis pulls back the curtains and startles at the hazy white light shining over the sea. He thinks he could get used to scenery like this. It’s heart-stoppingly beautiful. Too bad it comes with such an arrogant arsehole.  

Louis follows the faint sound of Harry’s voice as he walks towards where he thinks the patio is. When he gets there he sees that there’s a table full of every fruit imaginable, toast, and what looks like cereal. Harry’s on the phone, but when he sees Louis approaching he ends the call, and gives him a displeased look.

“Good morning,” Louis greets with a smile, hoping it somewhat makes up for ditching dinner last night.

Harry’s lip twitches a bit, but all he does is nod, “Morning, Louis.” There’s an edge to Harry’s voice, but Louis doesn’t think too much about it. “Please help yourself to whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Louis says and grabs a bowl, filling it with suspiciously healthy looking cereal and milk.

Harry gazes at him with an eyebrow raised, but Louis doesn’t let it bother him as he proceeds to eat his breakfast.  

“Are you sure you don’t want any fruit? I’ve got papaya, it’s delicious,” Harry offers.

Louis scrunches his face, “No thank you, I’m good with cereal.”

Harry pulls his lips into a pout again. God, this guy is acting like such a spoiled brat. Louis pays him no mind. 

“What time do you want to get started today?” Louis inquires after he’s finished his breakfast. Harry hasn’t said anything, seeming more interested in whatever is on his phone.

Harry’s head snaps up, he shrugs, “I’m all yours whenever you’re ready,” he says suggestively and then he winks —  _ winks _ .

Louis chokes back a scoff, “Okay then how about we start now?” He figures the quicker they get started the faster they can get all this over with, and Louis can go home.

Harry smiles, dimples on full display, “Sure, where do you want me then?” His voice is smooth, like velvet, and Louis finds his eyes focusing in on Harry’s lips, but he blinks to shake himself out of this weird trance Harry seems to be trying to pull him into.  

Louis stands up, “Let me get my laptop and we can get started. Did you want to stay outside or do you wanna go back into the house?”

Harry bites his bottom lip, and stands up, approaching Louis in three small steps, “How about…” Harry’s fingers run up Louis’ arm, along his bicep, stopping on his shoulder, “we meet in my bedroom?” Harry’s voice is a soft whisper, yet so deep Louis can feel the goosebumps grow where Harry just touched him.

Louis stops himself from smacking Harry’s hand off of his shoulder. As alluring as he is, there’s something about his cockiness that just  _ irks  _ Louis. He snorts, using every ounce of self-control he has in his body to rebuff the taller man as politely as possible. “Uh — I don’t think so. How about the dining room? Or do you have an office or something?” He’s surprised how steady he manages to keep his voice.  _ Professional _ . He’s the  _ pillar _ of professionalism. Stella would be proud.

Harry’s face falls and he looks disappointed. He’s still standing uncomfortably close, the scent of cologne and tropical fruit doing it’s best to drag Louis under, prey to Harry’s spell. Finally, big hand still on Louis’ body, caressing him over his thin t-shirt, Harry says, “Yeah, we can meet in my office.”

Louis resists the urge to lean into his host — his client — and, without another word, he excuses himself to grab his things, willing his cock to not get hard on his way back to his room.

 

***Harry***

Louis is walking away from Harry, swinging that fabulous arse of his, and Harry has to reach down for his fresh squeezed orange juice and down it in one go. He’s  _ parched _ . Louis’ eyes looked ridiculously blue this morning, the ocean reflected in them from the veranda, and Harry had a hard time staying angry with him.  

He was angry, of course, because Louis stood him up last night.  

No one stands Harry Styles up.  

At least when Harry  _ used _ to actually date people they didn’t. He used to be the one that left people wanting more, not the other way around. 

The worst part is that Louis didn’t even offer an apology or an explanation. That was just  _ rude _ .  Sighing, Harry runs a hand through his long, extra soft, conditioned with primrose and henna leave-in elixir hair, and decides to formulate Plan B: Make Louis Tomlinson Drop His Pants.

Shouldn’t be too hard.

Pun intended.

Harry passes by the kitchen on his way to meet Louis in his office and he spies Gloria loading the dishwasher. He places the tray of fruit and their dirty dishes on the counter and pecks her on the cheek. “Done outside, love.”

“Thank you.” She gives him a maternal smile and watches him carefully as he retrieves two bottles of water from the fridge. “Are you behaving, Mr. Styles?”

“ _ Harry _ . And yes, of course I am!” Harry is indignant. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

Gloria narrows her eyes and mutters, “No reason.” She turns back to the sink and Harry bites his lip, wanting to add something else but he decides better.  

“Mr. Tomlinson and I will be in my office.”  

He turns to leave and hears her say, “Yes, Mr. Styles.”  

Harry halts and grits out, “ _ Harry _ .” He’s not sure why Gloria’s words hang over his head, but they do.  _ Of course  _ he’s behaving himself. He just wants to have a little fun, is all. He’s still frustrated he even has to do this thing and Louis is even more frustrating than that. He hasn’t so much as given Harry a second look but Harry’s about to change that.

“Well, hello beautiful,” Harry says as he saunters into his study. Aside from the rec room, it’s his favorite room in the house. The view of the ocean through the floor to ceiling windows is splendid, and the green foliage outside, along with the shelves and shelves of books…

Louis looks surprised by the term of endearment but schools his features right away, accepting Harry’s offer of bottled water with a cursory nod. Harry feels his pride bristle at that and he wants  _ more _ . “This is a lovely room, Harry.” Louis is eyeing the bookshelves behind Harry as he says, “You have quite a lot of books.” There’s a kind of awe in his voice and again, Harry finds himself wanting more of that.  

“Oh,” he remarks casually, following Louis’ gaze, “I’ve...I’ve never read any of them.” He waves his hand in the air.  “Couldn’t even tell you the names of half of them.”

“Then why have them?” The question is simple, really, but Harry stares at Louis for a moment, struggling with how to answer.  

He stammers, “I guess….I guess they remind me of England and being a kid, wandering the local library for hours, getting lost in books and daydreaming about being characters in all of my favorites…” His voice gets that far away sound that it gets when he thinks of home; his mum’s cooking, the cool damp nights and the English countryside where his family still lives. His accent gets thicker and his skin gets thinner.  

“Where do you want me?” He says again, because the first time wasn’t exactly a home run, and he needs to stop thinking of things like home and his past and...he’d rather think about Louis Tomlinson and that fantastic arse of his.

“Just sit down Harry,” Louis breathes out with, dare Harry say, a touch of frustration.

_ Good _ . That means he’s getting to him.  

Harry settles onto the sofa across from Louis, sinking into the plush chenille, opening his legs wide in invitation. Louis looks away and pulls out a notebook and angles his computer so he can read something from it. Harry watches him carefully, pulling on his bottom lip with his fingers. He notices the way Louis squints at the screen and screws up his mouth so he can chew on the inside of his cheek.  

Adorable.

Louis clears his throat and doesn’t look up when he says, “So, Harry, the way this is gonna go is...I want this to be as casual and as easy for you as possible. There's no pressure to answer questions you don't feel comfortable answering. This is your book, you're in control so you can pretty much pace this however you want. I'm just here to collect the information I need and when I feel I have enough to write the book I'll let you know, okay?” He looks up at Harry after he finishes his little spiel and a tight lipped smile appears on his features.

Harry smirks and he lowers his voice, “Totally casual, I'm in control, quick and dirty just how I like it...got it.” He runs his tongue across his top lip trying for sensual.

An exasperated sigh leaves Louis’ lips, “You ready then?”

Harry leans against the back of the sofa, placing a hand on his thigh, he takes a deep cleansing breath and tries to remember why he’d agreed to do this in the first place. Finally he nods, “I’m ready.”

Louis sits up straight and clears his throat, “Okay, Harry, I see from my notes that you, um...you started acting when you were seven, is that right?”

Harry sighs, bored already. For fuck’s sake, are they really doing this?  “Yep.”

“And you had your first big break at sixteen?”

“Righto.”

Louis still hasn’t looked up at Harry. Harry decides to up the ante a bit. He slumps down in his seat and pushes a splayed hand across his crotch, tucking his fingers under his bulge. His hands are huge, he knows this, and he’s pretty sure the contrast of his pale skin against the dark denim is alluring — the fact that his hand barely covers his dick is a big plus too. Who knows? Maybe Louis Tomlinson is a size queen? He also knows that his button up shirt is unbuttoned down to his navel and one of his nipples is hardening in the open air.  

Louis  _ has _ to notice all of  _ that _ .  

“And, um…” Louis chews on the end of his pen, the cap already dented with tiny, symmetrical teeth marks. Harry imagines what those marks would look like on his skin, maybe his inner thigh. “You were in  _ Infinity _ at 18.”

“Tell me about it.” Harry deepens his voice a little. “Stud.”

Louis’ head snaps up at the Grease reference and ah! Harry’s got it. A fan of theater and/or cheesy 70s movies. Good to know. Louis’ cheeks blush and Harry sees his eyes drop to Harry’s crotch so Harry gives himself a little squeeze through his jeans. He doesn’t want to appear  _ lewd _ or anything. Just wants to give himself a subtle... _ adjustment _ .

“Wh — why did you say that?” Louis’ voice is slightly high pitched and he looks flustered.  Weird.

“What?  Stud?” Harry watches as Louis licks his lips and...is he sweating? Christ. “Just a little banter, that’s all.”

Louis looks at him for a beat and Harry decides to up the ante a bit. He rolls his hips fluidly up into his cupped palm and bites back a moan. That should do it. Louis should be climbing in his lap in 3, 2, ...

If Louis notices he doesn’t show it, looking back to his computer fluidly, a stain of pink on his cheeks, barely taking a full breath before saying, “And there were rumors of you and Emma Watson dating at the time, is that right?”

Harry drops his hand from his crotch. Talking about him being involved with any member of the opposite sex is a total boner killer. He can’t help the way his eyes roll when he answers, “That’s all they were. Just rumors. Emma lacked something in particular that I can only find in gorgeous men like you.” He raises his eyebrow and brings his hand back to his crotch as if to emphasize it, biting on his bottom lip.

And again, he gets nothing. Not even a blink from Louis. Instead he looks at whatever the hell he’s got on his screen. He seems to hesitate at first, if that furrow in his brow is anything to go by, before he speaks again. “Okay well, what about Ben Winston? Do you see much of him these days?”

Harry’s heart thuds clunkily in his chest and he stutters, “B — Ben?”

Louis looks back up, a small smile playing on his pretty pink lips. “Ben Winston? You two were...involved? Surely you remember?”

Harry recovers quickly, not entirely sure what Louis is playing at, but if he’s playing then two can play at that game. “Right. Ben Winston…” Harry lets his eyes drift away, looking out the window, spying a hummingbird flapping it’s powerful little wings alongside the bird feeder Gloria keeps stocked with sugar water. “Amazing cock, that one has.”

Louis coughs up the water he was in the middle of drinking and sputters, droplets flying everywhere and his cheeks colouring scarlet.  

“Oh! Oh my god.” Harry jumps up and practically leaps over the coffee table and around to the back of the other couch to get to Louis. “Here! Arms up.” He pulls Louis’ hands up over his head, lacing their fingers together — his mum always said to put your arms up when you choke.  So that’s what he does.

Louis coughs feebly and nods his head, croaking, “I’m ok. I’m ok.”

Harry pulls back on his arms just a little so he can see Louis’ face and he sees that his eyes are wide and dark and that, at this angle, with his back arched and his hands held fast in Harry’s, he’s breathing a little heavier and there is a delicious flush spreading down his neck and over the tops of the scrolled letters tattooed across his collar bones. Harry can’t make out the words, but he wants to — wants to trace them with his tongue, if he’s being truthful.  

Louis clears his throat again and half whispers, half rasps, “Can you, like...let go of me now?”

Harry immediately drops Louis’ hands. He’s a lot of things, but he never forces himself on anyone. He might tease and push, but when someone asks him to stop, he stops. Louis is still looking up at him, neck craned in what looks like a very uncomfortable position, and despite the flush on his skin and the wide look in his eyes, his voice is very controlled when he says, “I think maybe we need a break.”

Harry slides around the front of the couch Louis is sitting on, taking a place next to him and whispers, “So soon? Can’t last very long, eh Tomlinson?” Though internally Harry feels relieved. To this day talking about Ben is still a touchy subject and even though Harry knew the topic would come up for this memoir, he’s not as prepared as he thought he was. He needs some fresh air, maybe a walk to his favorite meditation spot will help. He needs to find some balance again, because Louis has thrown it completely off, along with everything else Harry thought he had under control.

Louis levels him with a glare and says, “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

As he watches Louis walk out of the study his eyes linger on that delectable arse. Louis might have a point.

 

***Louis***

Louis feels like a complete tit. He should have come more prepared. Granted, it wasn’t entirely his fault since he’d gotten this assignment at the last possible minute, but he could have at least come up with some basic biographical questions to get Harry comfortable with him, and get him talking.  

Harry wasn’t helping either, with those enormous hands. Those hands that Louis finds hard not to picture all over his body. Fuck. It’s so hard not to show how affected he is by Harry. No, he can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much Louis craves him. How did that even happen? Louis isn’t some animal, even though around Harry he just has this urge to  _ smell  _ him, he’d love to know what Harry smells like. He’d also maybe want to lick him, just to get a taste. He wonders if Harry would taste sweet or maybe a little sour under his tongue. He’s pretty sure whatever his flavor is, it would be sublime. But no, he’s not going to  _ lick  _ his client. He can’t. He needs to focus. On his work. On this book. He needs to not let himself get distracted by pretty boys who will eventually let the fame get to their heads and drop Louis like a sack of potatoes.

When he asked Harry about Ben, Louis knows he wasn’t imagining the fact that Harry’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a fraction. He was surprised by Louis’ boldness. And he definitely seemed reluctant to talk about his former director. Which was...interesting. For someone that seems so forthcoming and confident, in that small moment he seemed scared, reticent. Smaller, somehow. 

Louis smashes the keyboard as he types out his questions. You know, simple things like:  _ What was it like growing up in Holmes Chapel? What was your childhood like? What was your first sexual experience like? _

Fuck. No, he can’t ask that. Focus.  _ How did you land your first acting role? How did you first realize you had really made it? What’s your favorite sexual position? _ Shit.

Louis tries his best to concentrate and pretty much works non-stop, turning his research into usable questions, until he hears a knock on his bedroom door. It feels sort of like deja vú from this morning.

“Mr. Tomlinson?” Gloria calls, “Lunch is ready.”

Dammit. Louis hadn’t realized he’d been working for over two hours.

“Thanks, Gloria. It’s Louis by the way!” Gloria doesn’t say anything as Louis hears her retreating footsteps.

When Louis gets to the kitchen, Gloria directs him to the adjoining dining room. Harry is nowhere to be seen, and Gloria serves him the best grilled chicken sandwich and sweet potato fries he’s probably ever eaten. Louis can’t say he wasn’t disappointed to not have Harry around, it’s nice to have the company, after all, but at the same time he was a bit relieved. It’s a relief to not be looked at like  _ you _ are the meal, for a moment. Plus, Louis doesn’t have to worry about trying to keep it together and not fall apart and jump Harry’s bones, so that’s good. 

“Mr. Styles is waiting for you in his office whenever you’re ready Mr. — Louis,” Gloria informs him as she takes his empty plate and refills his glass with iced green tea — which is also delicious.

Louis nods, “Thank you.”

Louis takes his time, finishing his glass and then going to grab his things again. He gives himself a moment to steel himself, taking a deep breath, before finally obtaining the courage to make himself move and walk towards Harry’s study.

The door is shut, so Louis knocks.

“Come in,” Harry calls from the other side.  

Louis opens the door and walks inside, avoiding looking at Harry for as long as he possibly can. He puts his things on one of the tables, finds a chair and then looks up to see Harry. And  _ holy shit _ . Louis’ mouth goes completely dry. Harry is lying on the same sofa he was in earlier, a book in his hands, and he’s wearing nothing but  _ Tiny _ .  _ Yellow _ .  _ Shorts _ .  

Harry isn’t paying Louis any mind, looking interested in whatever contents the book has, and doesn’t seem to notice that Louis is practically dying of a heart attack right now. Harry’s thighs look so meaty and obscene, Louis would just love to run his teeth all over them leaving his mark wherever he can. And those fucking abs, oh my god. Louis doesn’t know how he’s supposed to survive a whole week with this guy without dropping his pants. Harry is making it more difficult the longer Louis is staying here.

As if Harry just noticed that Louis was in the room, he flips his long, silky hair, turning to look at Louis. “Oh...hi, Louis. Did you have a good lunch?” He smiles, smugly, like he knows exactly every thought that’s running through Louis’ mind. Again. 

Louis tries his damnedest to not let it show how much he’s really being affected by this whole situation — by  _ Harry _ — so he shrugs, “It was alright.” He swallows thickly because, out of the corner of his eye he’s sure Harry’s just adjusted himself in his shorts and, fuck.  _ Images _ . “Ready to get started again?” He says calmly, evenly. God, he deserves an Oscar for the performance he just did because again, Harry’s smile falls a little like a kid who’s just been told he can’t get ice cream until after dinner.

Harry nods, sighing, “Yeah go ahead, I’m all yours.” He throws his book to the coffee table, and he stretches, languidly, as if he has all the time in the world, arms up above his head, legs that go on for days. Louis gulps as he notes that his underarm hair looks trimmed, glowing auburn in the soft light and the light trail of hair that disappears under his waistband looks like the best kind of treasure map. His skin is like sweet caramel and Louis’ mouth waters with how much he wants to just  _ taste _ him. Harry’s muscles contract and relax as he finally settles into a comfortable position.

Louis clears his throat, takes a deep breath and says, “Okay then.” He opens his laptop, the document already open and ready for Louis to type in his notes. “Tell me about growing up in Holmes Chapel.”

Harry is quiet for a moment, his look is pensive as he looks out the window, “Hmm. Holmes Chapel...well, it’s the place where I had many firsts,” Harry begins.

Louis types as Harry talks, and he chances a look at Harry. “Can you talk a little more about that?” He asks carefully, thinking he might know where this is going.

Harry chuckles, “Well let’s see. I gave my first blowjob in the boys bathroom at my secondary school, and then the next day the guy acted like he didn’t even know me. It was a learning experience. My sister, Gemma, would always tell me that I gave it up too easily but I was a very curious young man, I had needs. Still do.” Harry gives Louis a knowing look.

Louis feels a flash of annoyance at Harry’s flippant answer, but he’s also intrigued, if not a bit aroused. He stops typing and levels Harry with a hard stare. “How did you feel about that, Harry?”

“What are you, my shrink?” Louis can tell that Harry means for it to be coy, but it comes out a little too harsh for that.

“No,” he begins, voice slow and careful, “I just mean...you wouldn’t have said it if it didn’t mean something to you.”

Harry stares at him through his lashes and his hand idly rubs up and down his lean torso. “Not really,” he says, but Louis isn’t convinced. He decides not to pry, though, feeling like maybe he touched a nerve — one that he might want to try and expose later.

Louis moves on. “How about acting?” He sticks to his notes. “How did you decide to start acting?”

“Oh well that’s easy,” Harry begins, “My sister and I would watch reruns of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. It was sort of a nightly ritual before going to sleep. I’d make the popcorn and she’d get us juice boxes, and we’d sit down and watch.” Harry looks lost, happy, in the memory. “I remember thinking that I wanted to do that. I wanted to make someone smile the way that shows and movies made me and my sister happy. I talked to my mum, told her I wanted to try, so she started taking me to auditions to do commercials. Eventually I got small parts as an extra, or I’d have like one line, but then I got to play Ivan, and that really changed me not only as an actor, but as a person.”  

Harry’s mouth curves into a genuine smile, and for the first time Louis really thinks this is the real Harry Styles. He thinks he can see a bit of the motivation behind the man, making people happy, and it’s a revelation. It shows off a bit of the tender underbelly that he can already see Harry works so hard to hide in flashy clothes, sly smiles and innuendo. It’s interesting.  _ That _ is what Louis wants to capture in this book. 

In just a moment, that smile is gone and replaced by a wicked smirk, “It also introduced me to my costar, Zac. And fuck, talk about a _sexual_ _awakening_.”

Louis can almost see the facade descend over the other man’s handsome features.

“What do you mean?” Louis doesn’t mean to ask that, but it comes out like a reflex, and it’s too late to take it back now. Plus he’s genuinely curious — wants to try to get to the bottom of who Harry is, what made him the way that he is.

Harry’s eyes land on Louis’. He’s still stretched out on that damn sofa, and now he’s taking one of his hands and bringing it along his chest. His index finger circles around his nipple before making its way down his torso — his endlessly lean and sculpted torso that Louis knows doesn’t just come naturally — he knows Harry works at that too, just like his carefully constructed image. Still...Louis can’t help it as he follows every single movement before he forces himself to focus again. He decides to look at the scenery behind Harry instead.

“Zac was my...well he was a lot of things. He was the first guy I’d ever been with, you know. Sexually — aside from that blow job. He... _ god _ . There was one time, where we had this really intense, emotional scene that we had to do for the show and he...” Harry laughs, the sound of it dark and intense, luring Louis in. “Before we were supposed to shoot he came into my trailer and he had this box in his hands. I asked him what it was and without a word he just handed it to me and said ‘You’re gonna wear this now and you aren’t allowed to take it out until I say so’. When I opened the box and saw what it was I got so fucking hard.”

Louis gulps, his heart in his throat. He wants to know — has to. “What was it?” All pretense of this being a normal interview are out the window now. Louis hates that he’s so damn curious but the way Harry’s voice just carries, the deep drawl of it is  _ mesmerizing _ . He can’t get enough.

Harry smirks, “It was a glittery, pink plug. I’d never tried one before, and he knew it. So he decided my first time would be in front of cameras and a crew. I did it of course, I never like backing away from a challenge, and oh my god. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.  After we finally finished filming he took me back to his place and as soon as he took it out I came harder than I’d ever come in my life.”

Louis feels his cock twitch so he gives up on trying to use his laptop, instead opting for a pen and notepad he retrieves from his messenger bag and places it on his lap to try and hide his half hard dick. He pretends to jot down a few notes, when in reality he needs a few moments to get his shit together. 

“After that,” Harry continues, unaware of Louis’ little situation — or maybe he does notice and he’s just ignoring it — “we were pretty out of control. It was like we were always trying to one up each other.”

Louis decides to just keep going, at this point he’s sure Harry is going to make whatever he can about sex, but if Louis just ignores him maybe he’ll give up and get serious about their task.

“What about working on multiple roles? I know that at one point you were working on two movies at once. How was that experience for you?” Louis pretends to jot down a few notes, but he’s actually started a pretty pornographic sketch. Whatever. He’s got to get some sort of release, even if it’s in the form of drawing.

Harry takes his index finger and nibbles on the nail for a few seconds before he smiles and answers, “Yeah...working on two movies was difficult. But...when you said multiple it made me think of…” he gives Louis a not so subtle wink. “Multiple orgasms.”

Louis chokes,  _ again _ , on nothing and makes a show of taking notes. Which,  _ what _ ? Who takes notes on multiple orgasms? Harry continues, “Used to have ‘em all the time with Zac.”

Something about the the tone in Harry’s voice makes Louis’ head snap up and pay attention. Harry is looking out the window with a far away almost sad look on his face. Something about it makes Louis’ breath catch in his throat. He knows that look. Knows what it feels like to get caught up in a long ago memory, tripping over thick vines of emotion.

Just as soon as it appears, it’s gone though, replaced with Harry’s lewd, almost smarmy voice. “We were trying to see how many I could have until I completely blacked out. It was five, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” Harry looks at him with a challenge in his eye but something about it feels wrong, displaced.

Despite the oddity of the moment, Louis’ cock doesn’t seem to be in agreement with his scrambling brain. It’s definitely interested in what Harry has to say. Even though Louis is trying really,  _ really _ hard to not fixate on Harry’s body in those damn yellow shorts. When Louis looks at Harry, noticing that the sadness in his eyes is completely replaced with an almost mocking sense of teasing, he can see that Harry’s sliding his fingers down, down, down into the waistband of his shorts.

Stella’s words come to Louis’ mind reminding him of what he’s here to do. Louis came to do a job, one that he’s expected not to fuck up in any way, shape or form. As much as he hates Harry’s obvious come ons, he needs to remain professional because if Stella gets wind that Louis was anything less than superb, well Louis might as well kiss his job goodbye — and any prospects of getting his book published. Besides, there is obviously more to Harry Styles and his flirty attempts at seduction — he’s just choosing not to share with Louis.

“Anyway,” Harry’s voice distracts Louis from his thoughts, “I think we should be done for today, I want to go out for a swim before the sun starts to go down.” Harry stands up, and yes, he’s... _ wow _ . This man is very well endowed. “I’ll meet you out there?”  

He asks Louis, but it’s a rhetorical question, as if Harry expects Louis to follow whatever Harry says. Which, no thank you.  

“Actually, if we’re done for today I’m going to go out for a little bit. I’ve got early dinner plans with my friend, Niall –– he lives in the area,” Louis informs him as he packs up his things, trying really, really hard not to look over at the  _ monster _ in the room, that happens to be at eye level with him.

“Oh.” Harry’s voice trails off, and for a moment, Louis thinks he sees something like sadness — or disappointment — in his eyes. And for a moment, Louis worries that maybe he’s let Harry down. He’s not sure how to feel about that. “Well alright then Louis. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

Louis nods and leaves the office without saying anything else, mind whirring with the events over the last hour or two. He goes to his room and shuts the door, leaning against it, taking deep calming breaths. He wonders for a moment if he’d be able to quietly wank or if the frustration from today, and months and months of going without, would give him away. He closes his eyes and prays for strength.  

Harry Styles is going to be the death of him.

 

***Harry***

Harry’s muscles burn and his lungs are aching. He powers through, arms slicing through the cool water powerfully, legs kicking steadily behind him. Two more laps. 

He pushes himself, Louis’ face behind Harry’s eyelids with every smooth stroke he makes, and the curved lines of Louis’ body like a phantom itch inside of him, begging to be scratched. Harry is  _ frustrated _ . He isn’t used to being rejected, definitely not by guys like Louis. Guys who are  _ exactly _ his type.

Louis is gay.  _ Clearly _ . Attractive.  _ Insanely so _ . Harry is pretty sure he isn’t married or dating — he has a sixth sense about these things. So, what is it? He’s never had any trouble getting someone into bed before, so what’s different this time?

Harry thinks back to how Louis asked him those questions in such a quiet, direct way. It made him almost believe that Louis was really interested in what he had to say. But then he remembers,  _ no _ . It’s Louis’ job to be interested in what Harry has to say. 

As he cools down, floating on his back and gently pushing himself across the length of the pool a few more times, he thinks about Zac. The sex had been...well, nothing short of fantastic. But Harry had fallen hard for Zac, a fact he conveniently left out of his monologue to Louis.  

Zac was older, handsome and so cocky. He seemed confident in a way that Harry never thought he could be himself, and when he kissed Harry that first time, on the makeshift dance floor at the wrap party after season one, Harry lost himself. He dreamt of their future and thought about all of the things he was willing to give up for Zac.

And he did. He gave up everything. Every single first, with the exception of that ill-fated blow job back in school, was given to Zac. It was  _ good _ . It was so good until it wasn’t.  

As they wrapped up Harry’s story arc, his character leaving for boarding school, effectively ending Harry’s employment with the franchise, Zac became more and more distant. Harry found out why when he walked into their shared dressing room to find Zac bent over the back of the couch with a stage hand fucking him with wild abandon — noises spilling out of them that were so loud, so dirty, Harry couldn’t believe no one else had heard them.  

Later, when Harry begged Zac to stay, to keep Harry, Zac had laughed at him and called him a baby, telling him to get over it. Then he said the words Harry never forgot.  

“ _ You weren’t that good anyway _ .”

Harry feels a thick spiral of curdled hate unfurl inside his chest, just remembering the sneer of Zac’s pretty mouth and the vicious sounds of those words just tossed carelessly at his feet all those long years ago. It had stayed with him. It’s still with him.  

Harry realizes with a start that he is standing still in the middle of his infinity pool, darkness descending around him, with his heart beating fast and the memories from that dark time threatening to pull him under. He shakes his head, the cool droplets from his long hair splattering on the water’s surface like slow falling rain. Blinking back unshed tears, Harry climbs out of the pool, watching the way the solar powered lights overhead start to blink on one by one.  

As he towels himself off with one of the oversized teal Egyptian cotton bath sheets, he realizes  that he hasn’t thought about Zac in a long time. He really hasn’t. Not even with his therapist. Seeing Louis, and having Louis ask him those personal questions, is dredging up all sorts of feelings. Feelings he’d rather squash down.

As much as he’s trying to use these old memories to get what he wants from Louis, Harry’s afraid that bringing them up is going to backfire — make him remember things he doesn’t want to remember, things he can’t face. 

He flops down on one of the lounge chairs and folds his arms behind his neck. He  _ isn’t _ that person any more — that person that Zac played with and left bleeding and alone. He’s worked too hard to let himself be that vulnerable ever again. He  _ wants  _ Louis, that’s true. Louis looks like he’d be an amazing fuck. He is pretty and smart and Harry imagines he is a wildcat in bed — quiet guys usually are. But Louis also seems shrewd in a way Harry isn’t used to. It sets him on edge a little. He wants Louis more than he’s wanted anything in a long time, but he isn’t going to stoop so low as to compromise who he is or what he’s become, that’s for sure.  

The problem is, Harry doesn’t exactly know if he likes who it is that he’s become, so he’s not quite sure what he’s holding on to either.   

He groans and stands up, scratching at his balls idly. Maybe he should go give himself a nice leisurely wank as a reward for a good workout. Or maybe as a reward for putting up with Louis all day. Louis and his gorgeous arse and that face with the cheekbones and the soft looking beard and the blue eyes that Harry just wants to see rolling into the back of his head in pleasure...  

Yeah. That’s exactly what he needs. Just a little something to take the edge off. So he can focus. Focus on what’s important here. Getting Louis Tomlinson into his bed.

 

***Louis***

“No way! You’re staying with Harry Styles? Please tell me you’re joking.” Niall — Louis’ friend from uni who now lives in California as a screenwriter –– is talking so loudly that some people around them are looking their way curiously.

“For god’s sake Niall, will you keep it down?” Louis whisper shouts, “Yes, I’m staying with Harry Styles, what’s the big deal? I didn’t even know who the bloke was just a couple of days ago.”

Louis takes a bite of his fettuccine alfredo as Niall continues to gape at him. “Are you fucking kidding me, Tommo? Harry Styles is...he’s a pretty big deal in the industry.”

“So I’ve heard,” Louis rolls his eyes, thinking that if he asked Harry he’d probably tell him himself what a big fucking deal he was. Ugh.  

Niall looks around the room, as if to make sure no one is watching them or listening before he leans towards Louis’ direction and whispers, “I heard from a friend who’s worked with him before that he had a complete mental breakdown after that whole Ben Winston scandal. He was out of the public eye for over a year and no one knew where he was. Then, out of nowhere, he’s going to be in the new Christopher Nolan film. No one knew a damn thing about it.”

Louis remembers that he wanted to ask Harry about Winston earlier. Tomorrow. “How could no one know he is working with fucking Christopher Nolan though? He’s one of the most famous directors in Hollywood!” Louis asks, astonished.

Niall shrugs as he takes a sip of his beer, “Nolan runs a pretty tight ship, and swears everyone to silence about his projects, it doesn’t really surprise me that no one knew. I’m surprised he hired Harry though. He must have really seen something in him to cast him, Nolan has no time to fuck around with actors who aren’t serious about their careers.”

Louis thinks about Niall’s words and finally nods in agreement. “Yeah...I think I know what you mean. Harry seems…”  he sighs, “Don’t get me wrong, he gets on my damn nerves, but there’s moments when I think I see the  _ real _ Harry. Sort of like he’s putting on a show for me and I catch these little glimpses of the man behind the act,” Louis mentions thoughtfully. It feels good to talk about this out loud with someone instead of just letting his thoughts about Harry fester in his mind, letting them drive him absolutely mad.  

“I don’t know mate. He’s been through the ringer, that one. Just...don’t be too hard on him,” Niall says.

Louis scoffs, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Niall gives him a pointed look, “I know how you get. Especially with your clients. You get that whole ‘you need me to make you look good’ attitude, Lou.”  

When Louis grunts in disagreement, Niall jabs his fork at him. “You know you do. Besides, you have nothing to be worried about. Just because you haven’t gotten your big break doesn’t mean you’ve got to take it out on others. You’re so talented. I have no doubt that your book will be picked up, you just have to be patient.”

Louis feels his face heating up. He hates being called out on his shit, and Niall isn’t the kind to hold back, which is something he loves _ and _ hates about him. It’s hard hearing the honest truth sometimes, but it’s also what he’s been needing to hear.

“You know, I brought my manuscript here with me. Thought I’d try some of the publishers over here. Figured it couldn’t hurt,” Louis admits, “Don’t know if Stella’s...you know.” He doesn’t get to see Niall often, but when he does they always get down to the nitty gritty. Niall knows the whole story, knows how Stella’s been fucking him around for years now and how Louis is fed up. Louis wants to be loyal, he does, but when he really thinks about it, he knows Stella only has Stella’s interests at the forefront. Everything else comes second. So, yeah. Niall knows everything. Louis has nothing to hide from him.

“Atta boy, that’s what I’m talking about. I’ll be more than happy to help you out you know...” Niall smiles, brushing his blonde hair from his light blue eyes. Louis really doesn’t want to have this conversation again.  

“Niall. No. I mean it. I appreciate it, but no.” 

Niall grimaces but tries to hide it behind his beer. “I can help you, Lou. If you’d just let me.”

“Thank you.” Louis means it. He’s so thankful for his old friend but he just doesn’t want to have to rely on him. He learned his lesson once and, while he trusts Niall with his life, he feels like he has to keep his work life and personal life separate.   

Niall, thank goodness, lets it go and they finish their drinks and split the bill, making promises to talk later in the week.  

Louis arrives back at the mansion at a decent time, not wanting to be a rude guest. He greets Gloria and goes to his room, no sign of Harry anywhere. He takes off his clothes, and fumbles through his suitcase to find his razor. He’s got the things he needs to take a shower in his arms, and he walks towards the window to admire the view when he notices Harry is outside doing yoga. In black leggings that leave little to the imagination.  

_ Very little. _

The sun has just set not too long ago so the sky is varying shades of pink and purple blending to midnight blue over the dark ocean, and there’s some lighting outside of the house that makes Harry very visible. So visible Louis can see his arse crack as he bends over into downward facing dog. Shit. His bum is so petite and curvy, Louis would like to leave his teeth marks all over those arse cheeks. His dick twitches as he entertains the notion for a moment.  _ Fuck _ .

Louis all but runs into the ensuite and shuts the door behind him. He turns on the shower, letting it get to the perfect temperature as he puts his things on one of the shelves so they don’t get wet.  _ Harry in yoga leggings, Harry in yoga leggings...Harry’s gigantic cock in yoga leggings _ . The words and images are on a loop in his brain and by the time he’s under the warm spray, his own cock is fully hard. So hard it nearly hurts.

Louis shuts his eyes tight, trying his best to will his dick to calm down to no avail. He eventually decides to just throw caution to the wind, telling himself that it’s the build up of everything, from this morning –– the way that Harry looks at him, how  _ hot _ Harry is, the  _ stories _ Harry told him about his sexcapades as if he were showing him the footage of it right there in his study. It was so fucking vivid Louis felt like he was invading Harry’s space, but he couldn’t  _ stop  _ because he just wanted to know more. He  _ wants  _ to know... _ everything _ .  

Louis honestly can’t remember the last time he got laid. Clearly it’s catching up with him.

Before he knows it, his hand is on his cock, tugging at it and trying to be as quiet as he can, not wanting to get caught like he’s some sort of teenager trying to pull one off in his parent’s house. He can’t help it though, it’s the effect Harry Styles seems to have on him, and no matter how hard Louis tries, he can’t stop it. Harry is this undeniable force, and there’s only so much strength Louis has before he’s bound to give in. He imagines the way the long line of Harry’s back would look if he bent him over that desk in his study and fucked him until he couldn’t remember his own name. He imagines the way he’d look on his knees, lips stretched obscenely around Louis’ cock, taking him down like a pro. Then...because he’s a masochist, he imagines Harry Styles in those fucking yoga leggings, shoving his barely contained bulge into the crack of Louis’ arse — completely clothed but pornographic just the same and that just…

Louis bites down on a groan and he feels the heat build up at the bottom of his belly, as he chases it, his speed increases and before he knows it he’s coming. Hot, white spurts staining the beautiful tiled bathroom wall. Louis blushes in embarrassment and shame. He just wanked to the thought of Harry Styles under the man’s roof.  

What the fuck is wrong with him?

 

***Harry***

Yoga is the universe’s gift to the world.  

Harry sighs, picking up his towel and water bottle, taking a moment to enjoy the inky sky that’s spread out above him like some kind of cosmic canvas. He always gets zen and floaty after he does a little yoga. It was just the thing he needed after the frantic wank he had in his shower after swimming, thoughts of Louis’ mouth slurping on his cock and his vivid blue eyes tearing up as he struggled to take him down. Harry could practically hear the thick, guttural moans and he could almost feel the way Louis’ hands would dig into his arse while he just  _ let  _ Harry fuck his throat.

Yeah. That was.  _ Something _ .  

It’s only been a little over 24 hours but Harry is afraid he might be becoming obsessed. And that just won’t do. Nope. Not at all. Harry Styles does not obsess over others. Others obsess over him. That’s just the way things worked. He undoes the tie holding his hair up in a tight bun and feels the waves spread over his shoulders. He can smell the earth and the ocean and his own clean sweat and he has a moment...just a moment, where he feels more alive than he has in years.  

He feels  _ hopeful _ .  

He’s not sure why, but he does.  

Maybe it has something to do with the new movie he’ll begin filming next month. Maybe it has to do with this stupid book he’s supposed to be working on. Or, maybe....maybe it has to do with his houseguest — the person he’s been thinking about non-stop since he walked into his house yesterday.  

He finds himself wondering about the man in his guest room. What does he like to do when he’s off work? What kinds of movies does he watch? Does he like pepperoni in his pizza? And what the fuck? Harry thinks he’s gone soft. He giggles as he palms at his semi in his yoga pants — yoga always gets him going. Increased blood flow or summat. Definitely not soft.

Shaking his head, he heads indoors, padding through the dark living room and down the hall toward his own suite. He has to pass Louis’ room and he can see the light peeking through the bottom of the door so he knows he’s home. What the hell, he thinks as he stops outside the lacquered frame, raising his hand to knock three times in rapid succession.  

“Come in,” Louis’ raspy voice calls out.  

Harry swallows and pushes down the butterflies in his stomach. What is he, a bloody teenager?

“You decent?” He drawls, pushing in the door.  

Louis is on his bed, bare chested, with the duvet pooled around his hips, laptop on his knees, papers spread all over. “Hi Harry.”  

Harry thinks Louis’ voice is softer than it has been. He thinks maybe that’s a good sign. “How was your evening?” He leans against the door, crossing his arms over his chest, knee popping out as he crosses his ankles too. Louis tracks the movement and Harry sees his wet pink tongue dart out and wet his bottom lip.  _ Interesting _ .  

“Was good, yeah. Saw my friend. Had a good meal.” Louis leans back a little and Harry feels something stir inside of him at the openness in the gesture. Louis looks... _ relaxed _ . It’s a good look on him. Harry wonders what Louis did to get that way. He doubts it was just getting to see his old friend.

“Niall, you said?”

“Yeah.  Don’t get to see each other much anymore…”  Louis drifts off, expression fond before he snaps back, his face quickly changing into something more guarded, still open — but...professional. Harry feels something twist inside him, wanting that other Louis back, the one thinking about his friend, thinking about good times and being comfortable. Harry wants him to feel like that here. And,  _ what _ ? “Anyway, going over my notes and...I think maybe we got off to a bad start.”

Harry feels his eyebrows shoot up as surprise tickles at the back of his throat. He tilts his head and wonders what Louis is getting at. He gestures to the bed, asking permission and Louis hesitates a moment before nodding. He shuffles his things and pulls his legs up to make room for Harry. Harry walks softly toward him, careful, not wanting to scare him. He feels a little foolish, being so cautious in his own home, for Christ’s Sake. But. Something about the vulnerability in Louis’ eyes makes him want to.  _ Need  _ to.

“Go on,” Harry encourages as he perches on the end of the bed, vaguely aware of the fact that these leggings are doing very little to hide his bulge. Part of him doesn’t care. Part of him feels shy suddenly. So, he crosses his leg to try and hide his...endowments. He doesn’t want to be obscene. At least not yet.

Louis smiles and sticks his hand out. “Louis Tomlinson. Nice to meet you.”

Harry laughs out loud, he can’t help it. “Really?”

“Really.” Louis waves his hand around, his wrist delicate and just a delight to watch. Harry wants to run his tongue over the inside of it, feel Louis’ pulse jump under his lips. But at the same time, he’s touched by the innocence of the act, the almost pleading vulnerability behind Louis’ eyes. “Come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Harry laughs again and decides to play along. “Hi Louis Tomlinson. Harry Styles. Nice to meet you too.”

Louis’ hand is small, dry, but the handshake is firm, exuding a strength that belies his smaller frame. Their hands remain clasped for a moment and Harry likes it. He likes feeling Louis’ hand in his, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Likes the way Louis’ eyes widen as he looks from their clasped hands and then up to Harry’s eyes.  

It’s cliche and stupid but Harry thinks he could get lost in the blue of Louis’ eyes. They seem vast, bottomless — and the way they’re studying Harry right now, almost like Louis is trying to memorize him. It makes Harry feel cut open, transparent.  _ Raw _ . He doesn’t often get so sidetracked, derailed, from something once he sets his mind to it. But here, in the soft light of the bedside table, Louis has him feeling charmed, and at ease.  

“Right.” He pulls his hand away from Louis, feeling his heart beat wildly beneath his chest, suddenly hot — when did it get so hot in here? He feels dizzy from sitting so close to the other man, almost like he might...might want to crawl up next to him and — fuck.  _ Cuddle _ . What is happening?  

“I just...I know I can come off as a bit of a prick, Harry.” Harry laughs, genuine, still beguiled by the soft smile on Louis’ face. “But I’m honestly trying here. And...I just want you to look good in your book, you know? I want to help you shine.”

Harry gapes at Louis for a moment, taken aback at how honest he seems. And that — that just doesn't happen in Harry’s world. People want Harry for things, they  _ take  _ things from Harry without a second thought. And Louis — Louis just said he wants to help him? Harry is struggling with the question of whether Louis is wanting to help him as his ghostwriter or is Louis wanting to help him as a friend. It makes Harry feel hot, and a little uncomfortable. He’s never cared much about blurring lines before — why all of a sudden with this one?

“You know,” Louis says quietly, smoothing over the sheets covering his legs, “It’s not just my job to make you look good. I...I genuinely want to help you, Harry. I know that deep down, under all this,” he waves his hand around in the general area of Harry’s chest, “is something sweet and kind and good — and worth helping.”

And, fuck. Louis looks like he actually believes it. He almost makes  _ Harry  _ believe it. Could that actually be possible? Someone wanting to help just for the sake of helping? It’s a foreign concept to Harry, that’s for sure. One he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

And so, he pulls his mouth back into a shaky grin, going for his trademark mega-watt smile. “So. Got anything on underneath the blanket there Tomlinson?” He feels  _ stupid _ . Stupid and rude and just. Shitty. But...Louis does something to him and he’s confused so he decides to stick to what he knows. Flirting. Sex. He can do those things. He knows them well — knows how to get what he wants with those things.  

His hand itches to slide it under the blanket and see if Louis is naked underneath. But also, his hand itches to cradle Louis’ stubbled jaw and look into his eyes for eternity. Christ. He’s confusing  _ himself  _ here.  

Louis squints at him, huffs out a breath and shakes his head. “Yeah. I think we’re done here.”

Harry stares back, trying to decide if he’s serious — trying to decide if he should apologize. Louis cuts him off before he can even get a reply out of his mouth. “I was trying to start over Harry. You just — you’re so...fuck. I don't know why I even bothered!” Louis spits out.

Harry is surprised for a moment, but he recovers. Again. Louis is full of surprises this evening.  He’s full of surprises, in general. It’s puzzling. He looks hurt and mad, a flush rising on his cheeks.

“I appreciate that Louis — you wanting to start over. I really do. And I think it’s a good idea. But.  I’m distracted…” he drags a long finger over the blanket, right where he knows Louis’ thigh is bent at the knee, trailing his finger up what he thinks is Louis’ inner thigh. Louis blushes an even deeper shade of red so Harry thinks he’s got it right, despite the disgust he feels curling in his gut at how pigheaded he’s being right now. This feels better. More like Harry Styles TM . There’s a comfort to it — being in the known rather than the terrifying unknown.

“I — I’ve got to get back to work.” Louis stammers, jerking his leg away.  

Harry grins, hiding the despair he’s starting to despise that’s flooding his chest, sliding off the bed, taking his time as he walks toward the door. He can feel the burn of Louis’ gaze on his bum. He likes that too — maybe even better than holding Louis’ hand in his. At least he knows what to do with that. Knows how to handle appreciative eyes and indecent thoughts.  

He turns back around and catches Louis doing exactly what he thought he was doing. The other man’s cheeks are pink and his nipples are just a little more raised on his narrow, smooth chest. “Louis?”

“Hm?” Louis’ eyes snap up to his.  

“Is there anything I can get you?” Harry drops his voice on purpose and pulls his shirt up slightly to scratch at his belly, not really experiencing an itch whatsoever, just doing it for effect.  

Louis watches him and sputters a little. “No. No, I’m...um. I’m fine.”

“That you are,” Harry says slowly, hand sliding down his hip over the tight leggings, stopping to rest alongside his cock, which is taking notice nicely at the moment. He knows, if it were him in Louis’ position, he would be getting hard at the sight. He’s pretty sure, if Louis’ squirming is anything to go by, Louis is having that  _ very  _ sensation right now. And still...Harry can’t ignore the fact that this feels wrong, so, so wrong.

Louis seems frozen, his chest moving rapidly with his increased rate of breathing and his mouth is hanging open a little. Harry feels like he’s got some control back and — he realizes it doesn’t feel as  _ good  _ as he thought it would. It actually feels...kind of  _ shitty _ . He’s toying with another person like a cat with a mouse. And that — that’s not fair.  

Shame floods his brain and colors his cheeks.  _ Fuck _ . This is another human being he’s playing with here. Louis had been trying and what did Harry do? Threw it back in his face.

“Louis.” He pulls his t-shirt down over his hips, covering up his semi. “Louis,” he repeats, louder this time, more commanding. Louis looks up quickly, dazed.  

“Yeah?”

“Sleep well, ok?”

Louis blinks at him, confused, and Harry wants to flee the room. He feels so conflicted right now, lust, regret, and...embarrassment warring inside of him, making him want to scream. This has never happened to him before.  _ Never _ .

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, snapping out of the trance he had just been in, looking down at his computer and dismissing Harry. “You too.”

Harry slips out of the room and closes the door. He walks to his room and falls into bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell is going on. When did he,  _ Harry Styles _ , develop a conscience?

 

***

Harry’s jogging up the path from the beach the next morning when he spies Louis sitting on the veranda with his legs drawn up to his chest, staring out over the water. If Harry was the sort to wax poetic he might want to write a song or something about the pretty man sitting in his garden. But he’s not, so he settles for a long, loud wolf whistle.

Yanking his shirt off over his head as he walks towards the house, Harry mops the perspiration off of his face and flops down in the chair opposite Louis before he remembers they’re supposed to be starting over.

“S — sorry. I...I didn’t mean to…”

Louis lets out an exasperated breath and rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, Harry...” He drops his legs to the ground and Harry takes a moment to appreciate his thick thighs and the delicate curve of his calves.  

“Yeah? Still…” Harry draws his eyes up to Louis’ face and finds the other man staring at him. “I am sorry. You...um. You deserve better than that.”

Louis pauses for a moment and then kicks his bare foot out at Harry, making him jerk away, nearly falling out of his chair as a result. “Shut up,” he says, teasingly, but there’s an undercurrent of relief in his words, on his face, and Harry hopes they’re alright.  

Harry sees that Louis has eaten already, granola and yogurt remnants in a bowl on the table and a half drunk cup of tea as well. “Gloria get you all fed?”

“Hm,” Louis hums, “she did.”  

“What’s got you up so early, then?” Harry sniffs at himself as inconspicuously as possible. He kind of reeks. He definitely needs a shower.  

“It’s so bloody bright here.” Louis grumbles, squinting into the bright morning light. He looks like a grumpy kitten, all sleepy and cuddled up in his chair. Harry fights the urge to snuggle him.  

“It’s glorious, isn’t it?” Harry stretches out further, dropping his sweat soaked shirt to the ground. He’s always been a morning person. Especially when it comes to sex — loves morning sex. He sees Louis tracking his movements, carefully watching Harry’s arms and legs flex as he comes down from the high of his run. Louis looks up his eyes flashing with something that looks like embarrassment and keen interest. To Harry, it feels like there’s a growing, sort of fragile, delicate peace between them.   

It’s quiet for a few moments and Harry sits up straight and grins brightly at Louis, catching him off guard. “Hey! I have an idea. Let’s go out today — bring your laptop, you can interview me while we’re out.”

“Wha — “ Louis starts to protest but then stops himself, something he sees in Harry’s eyes must make him change his mind. “Yeah...yeah. Ok. When?” He says, breathily, almost as if he’s caught up in Harry’s exuberance.

Harry can’t help it, he feels giddy. “Now! Now Louis Tomlinson! Now!” He bellows, getting up and scrambling toward the patio door. “Gotta jump in the shower but I’ll meet you at the front door in 15.”

He’s heading toward his bedroom when he hears Louis grousing behind him, “For fuck’s sake.  What now?”

Harry giggles as he skips into his bedroom. Ok, so, Louis is not a morning person then. Harry can work with that.

 

***

 

The dry, hot air whips through the Range Rover as Harry drives through the narrow mountain roads. Louis is white-knuckling it so Harry decides to slow down. “Not much further.”

“Good,” Louis practically gasps.

“Ok?” He chances a sideways glance at his passenger, who has gone white.

Louis exhales and drops his head to the headrest. “Yeah — just. Don’t like heights that much.”

Well shit. That sort of ruins Harry’s plans. “At all?”

“I mean. Right now it looks like we could go flying off the road and tumble to our death so...can’t really think much beyond that,” Louis says through gritted teeth.

Harry slows down and eases the car to the side of the road. This would have to be high enough. He pulls into a space and turns off the ignition. Louis visibly relaxes. Harry tentatively reaches out to touch the back of Louis’ neck, it’s cool and a little sweaty. “Aw. Louis. You’re all sweaty.”

Louis gives Harry a withering look, but seems to lean into Harry’s touch. Harry leaves his hand there, smoothing over the skin with gentle fingers. He didn’t realize it at first, but feeling Louis’ skin under his sends a soft current through him. It feels reassuring and perfect in the most simple of ways.  

Louis pulls away after a moment, almost as if he’s reminded that maybe they shouldn’t be touching up here in the southern California foothills, dry brush and hazy sunshine as their only witnesses. “Where are we?”  

Harry looks around the car and sees what Louis must see. It’s almost dismal, actually, and he barks out a harsh laugh — too loud, forced. “You’ll see,” he says, opening the door and dropping out of the car. Louis follows suit and Harry leads them toward an almost overgrown path. 

“Are you leading me to my death?” Louis jokes.

Harry tries to give him his most menacing look — he fails — and says, “That’s for me to know.”

Louis just rolls his eyes and follows. Harry pushes back some overgrown branches and forges his way down the path. The dry brush and stones crunch under his trainers and the air feels hot and close, dusty, with the scent of wildflowers and singed earth carried on it. After just a few minutes of walking, with Louis close behind, the path empties out to a clearing. It’s a small patch of matted grass, and the path veers to the left but the view here is...stunning.

There’s a valley below them,  houses spread widely apart up in the hills, moving together more tightly coalesced as the city closed in on the ocean. The sight of the sea and the indelible change of the landscape merging into one fantastic horizon is breathtaking. Harry loves it here.  

Looking over at Louis, noticing the fine sheen of sweat that’s on his brow — Christ it’s hot out — he sees that Louis is impressed too. It’s hard not to be when you see what mankind has done to the landscape yet it’s hedged by beauty and nature on all sides. “Wow.” Just one word, that’s all Louis says, but it’s enough.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, dropping to the grass, sitting cross legged, resting back on his hands.  

Louis slowly joins him and continues looking out over the scenery. Harry looks at Louis.  

He’s more striking than the view, that’s for sure, with his high cheekbones, flushed pink from the heat right now, and his angled collar bones and the way his bottom lip keeps getting sucked in between his teeth — it’s distracting, and Harry doesn’t let himself get easily distracted these days, but there’s something about Louis.  

“It’s gorgeous,” Louis says quietly, turning to look into Harry’s eyes.

Harry starts because the vibrant blue he finds in the other man’s gaze is startling. Bright and caught up in Harry’s own eyes, it’s almost as if they don’t really need to talk — there’s a whole conversation going on just in their eyes alone. “Yeah…” Harry finally says, unable to look away.

It’s Louis who finally breaks the spell, pulling his backpack off his shoulders to his lap, where he rummages for his laptop. Harry stretches his legs out, patient. He told Louis to bring his computer, after all, why should he be disappointed that the other man intends to work? He’s not disappointed. He’s  _ not _ .  

“Why did you bring me here?” Louis asks, not opening his computer.

“I just like it. It’s a good place to like, think.”

They both look out over the view, lost in their thoughts for a moment. “What do you think about?”  Louis says, quiet again, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the fragile balance up here — between the thinner air, the quiet solitude, and the way the nature all around seems omnipotent and watchful.  

Harry looks down at his shorts, eyes going blurry from the crisscrossing lines of the blue and red plaid. “Just...stuff.”

“Care to enlighten me?” Louis’ voice is light and encouraging. “Off the record?”

Harry’s heart leaps a little at that, at the implication of that statement. Louis wants to know something about him that he’s not going to write about. That must mean...what? That Louis is interested in him? As a person — not just a client? Harry bites his lip and raises his eyebrows at Louis, who is sitting so close to him he can smell the salty clean scent of sweat and cologne and whatever hair product he uses — something like sandalwood or cedar, earthy, layered.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Louis confirms, giving Harry another one of those private smiles that makes his stomach flip.

“You know...I just come here when I need to get away and like…” Harry sweeps his arm out in front of him. Louis follows the movement, eyes landing on some faraway point in the distance.  Harry swallows thickly before continuing. “I think about how I got here, where I came from. I think about how lucky I am to be here.” It’s a big admittance. It’s very much the antithesis of Harry Styles TM .

Saying it out loud makes him feel stupid, makes him feel like a complete idiot but when he looks up again, from his damn busy shorts, Louis is watching him with a look of wonder on his face. “I think I know what you mean, Harry,” he says, completely void of any judgement.  

“I think...when you’ve had things happen to you, you like...you need time and space to just kind of move on, process it all, right?” Harry’s picking at a some grass between the V of his legs. “I’ve taken that time and space and you know...I like...I think I want to move on. This place...this place has helped me to do that.”

Louis nods and stares out over the valley below. “Why’d you want to show it to me, then?”

“I think maybe...maybe you need time and space too?” Harry whispers, looking at Louis' profile, thinking about how guarded he’s been, but the glimpses of who he really is shining through at moments, like last night in his bedroom, makes Harry think maybe Louis needs a place to think too. He watches as Louis’ eyes widen and then close shut for a second. As he opens them again, he turns to look at Harry and Harry holds his breath, hoping he hasn’t overstepped whatever line they’ve put up for the moment.  

Holding Harry’s gaze, Louis finally replies, “Yeah. I think maybe you’re right. I just...”

Harry waits, watching as Louis collects his thoughts. There’s an innuendo on the tip of his tongue, an inappropriate something itching to get out but Harry holds it, holds his breath as he watches thought after thought cloud Louis’ eyes.

“I haven’t always had an easy go of things, you know?” Louis says softly, his raspy voice carrying on the wind. And,  _ god _ , Harry wants to know what that means but he can’t ask. Doesn’t want to scare Louis. Because he thinks that’s exactly what would happen if he did. And, for some reason, he wants to protect this fragile peace between them. “I think that’s why...why I felt like we needed to start over last night.”

Harry is stunned because that’s not exactly what he thought Louis was going to say. He was expecting some confession about a difficult childhood, or something, but he wasn’t expecting something that had to do with him. “What — what do you mean?” His voice is a bit more shaky than he intends.

Louis levels him with a cool, even stare, complete seriousness in his tone and face. “I just don’t have a lot of tolerance for bullshit, that’s all. And, you — Harry — you need this book. You need  _ me _ . And, for some reason, I think I need you too. It doesn’t make sense to me but...when you don’t take this seriously…” he gestures between the two of them. “When you make everything about sex and trying to, I don’t know...freak me out or something? It belittles my work and it also belittles you. And your worth.”

Louis sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. And it’s scares Harry a little. Especially since he's so goddamn right.  

It’s quiet, the dry heat surrounding them and pulling air from Harry’s lungs. He shudders and takes as deep a breath as he can muster. “Yeah. I — um.” He clears his throat and finally forces himself to look back at Louis, who is staring right at him. “I think...I  _ know _ . You’re right.”

Louis gives him a small smile, biting his lip as he tilts his head to the side, studying Harry’s face.  “So...can we start over? For real this time?”

Harry finds himself nodding immediately. “Yeah. I’d, um...I’d like that.” 

“Me too.” Louis’ voice is quiet, almost too quiet, but Harry hears it. Hears the promise in his words and the feeling that something new is blossoming between them.

Harry exhales and bumps their shoulders together, both of them turning their eyes to the horizon again. The midday sun beats down on their shoulders and it’s hot but it feels a little like being cleansed and it feels good sitting here with a new... _ friend _ ? Harry feels at rest and he hopes Louis feels that a little too.  

After some time passes, enough that Harry starts to feel a little sweaty, uncomfortably so, he stands up and holds a hand out to Louis. Louis takes it, without hesitation, Harry notes, and stands up, their torsos nearly brushing. Louis takes a step back and drops his laptop –– never opened –– back in his bag. That’s ok, Harry thinks. They’ll have plenty of time for work later. For now they have this place and a truce. And it’s enough.  

 

***Louis***

Harry and Louis spend the rest of their day just  _ talking _ . Louis feels a little off balance — a little  _ stunned _ , actually, by the open honestness of Harry’s face, his entire being, when they were up in the mountains. He feels lighter having opened up to Harry a bit and it feels like something has shifted between the two of them. It feels good, natural. But he can’t help but still feel a little cautious since this Harry feels so different than the one he met just a few days ago.  

Harry takes them to his favorite little sandwich shop in the valley, telling Louis they have the “best vegan wraps you’ll ever taste.” Louis takes his word for it and orders a giant BLT.  

They eat and Harry answers all of Louis’ questions. Louis asks him things about his childhood, to fill in some of the blanks, and more about his early acting experiences. It’s like whatever wall that was built up between them had been knocked down and Harry seems content, eager even, to talk about anything and everything Louis throws his way. Louis keeps it professional, sticking to his notes, and even Harry keeps it very professional which is a nice change of pace. It’s late afternoon when they finally decide to call it a day and head back to the house.

For dinner, Harry turns on the grill outside and cooks them some delicious shish kabobs and probably the best salmon Louis’ ever had. They’re both sporting their swimming trunks as they sit on the patio chairs eating and drinking Harry’s special vodka lemonade concoction.  

“Oh my god, I think you’ve killed me with all this food,” Louis groans patting on his belly.

Harry smirks, “Well you know what they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his belly,” he winks and Louis slaps him on the arm playfully. Louis feels like they’re comfortable enough with each other that they can joke around and enjoy each other’s company. He never thought they’d come to this point.

“Piss off.”

Harry giggles, “Oh come on Lou, don’t be so uptight. Loosen up a little,” he refills their drinks as he says it.

Louis shakes his head and takes his glass, the cold condensation dripping through his fingers, “Twat.”

Once they’ve digested their food a bit, they take a dip into the pool. The water is the perfect temperature, and they float around as the sky above them grows darker as the time passes. When they’ve finally had enough of the water, they step out and dry off. “I had a really good day today, Harry. Thank you for, you know. Showing me around and stuff. It was nice.”

They’re making their way inside the house and Harry’s lips curve up into a smile, “It was.” They get to Louis’ door first and they stand in front of it, silent for a few moments. “Tomorrow morning I’ve got a meeting with my manager so we can resume our interview at lunch if that’s okay with you.”

“Okay, yeah that works,” Louis says already looking forward to sleeping in the next day. All of the fresh air and good food and exercise has tired him out. “Good night Harry.” Louis opens his door and goes inside. He can feel Harry staring after him before he shuts it behind him.  

If things continue to go as well as they went today, Louis is more fucked than he thought he was when he first arrived.

 

***

Louis wakes up to the sound of a guitar playing a pretty melody that echoes throughout the house. It’s not a song that he recognizes, and he wonders if it’s someone playing or if Harry’s listening to some sort of instrumental arrangement. His curiosity gets the best of him and he stumbles out of bed, throwing a pair of shorts on before he opens his bedroom door to find the source of the sound.

The melody seems to be coming from Harry’s room. Louis tiptoes down the hall, not wanting to disturb anyone and when he gets closer, he notices that Harry’s door is cracked open. Louis can see his silhouette outlined by the bright morning (is it still morning?) light. Harry has the guitar held close to his chest and his eyebrows are pinched in concentration as he strums and closes his eyes, taking in the sound. He looks truly ethereal like this, so  _ peaceful _ . Louis wishes he had his phone so he could take a picture. He stands in the doorway admiring the view until Harry happens to open his eyes and catches Louis watching him, startling him to a stop.

“Louis?” Shit. Damn Louis and his curiosity.

Louis blushes at having been caught, but he recovers, he waves his hand, “Good morning. Or is it? I haven’t even checked the time. I woke up to the sound of the guitar.”

Harry looks down at his guitar and his eyes widen a bit, “Oh my god I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no don’t worry about it. I liked it, I had to come and see what it was,” Louis bites on his bottom lip. “I had no idea you played.”

Now Harry is the one blushing. He clears his throat, “Um yeah, just something I recently picked up. No big deal.”

“Well I like it. It...it suits you,” Louis smiles at him and Harry returns it. They’re in this sort of moment where they’re both just looking at each other, shy smiles on their faces not really knowing what to say next. Louis coughs, “Anyway, I’m gonna go get ready for the day,” Louis points his thumb behind him, “I’ll see you for lunch?”

Harry nods looking at his watch, “Yeah, lunch will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Hope you like tacos,” he says throwing him a dimpled grin.

Louis rushes through getting ready, not bothering to shave or put any product in his hair. As he’s putting his shoes on he hears the doorbell ring. He wonders if Harry is having guests over. Heading to the kitchen area he sees Harry with two  _ really  _ good looking men. They’re both a bit shorter than Harry; one is built with broad shoulders and very tall hair, and the other has his hair slicked back, dressed in all black and wearing combat boots. Harry looks like he’s been caught off guard by them, so Louis approaches with a tentative smile on his face. For a moment, Louis is surprised by how attuned he is to Harry and his emotions — it’s only been a few days for Christ’s sake.

The two men’s eyes fall on Louis, and Harry turns to look at him, “Louis, I’m sorry I’d completely forgotten that I had lunch plans with Zayn and Liam. You don’t mind if they join us, do you?”  

“Not at all, I’m Louis, nice to meet you,” Louis extends his hand and both of them shake it with warm smiles on their faces. It might be nice to see Harry through his friend’s eyes. Louis is startled to realize that he’s not thinking about that from a professional point of view as Harry’s ghostwriter, but as Harry’s  _ friend. _

Harry claps his hands, “Great. Louis, these are my closest friends, don’t believe anything they tell you,” he says playfully, “Guys, Louis is the ghostwriter I told you was going to be spending some time here this week. Working on my...you know...memoir, or whatever.” Recognition floods Liam and Zayn’s faces and they nod. “Well, come on then. Gloria has set up a taco bar for us. There’s plenty of food to go around,” Harry gestures towards the dining room and all three men follow suit.  

Lunch is as good as all the food has been this week. Louis really enjoys Liam and Zayn’s company. He likes the way that Harry acts around them, with his guard down, and he looks so soft and warm, he’s almost glowing. It feels like an extension of the Harry he had a glimpse of yesterday — it’s nice.  

Every time Liam says something that makes Harry laugh, this noise comes out of Harry’s mouth that Louis’ never heard before, like some crazed duck honk or something. It startled Louis the first time he heard it but he finds it very endearing, and he can’t help but stare at the interaction between Harry and his friends. The three of them work well together, you can tell there’s this comfort and trust between them. It’s a side of Harry he hasn’t gotten to see, interacting with friends — and it’s so refreshingly... _ normal _ .  

“Hey Zayn, have you heard from Mer? She hasn’t returned any of my texts or calls. We were supposed to make plans to go to Paris Fashion Week together, and I’ve gotten nothing back from her,” Harry asks after they’ve settled with some tea and flan.

Zayn’s face falls. His eyes look away from Harry and his fingers begin to fidget against the napkin on the table. “Um...she’s been...you know...busy and stuff…”

Louis feels something unsettling at the pit of his stomach. Something doesn’t feel right...something feels  _ really  _ off. He looks at Harry and his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

“What’s going on Zayn? What aren’t you telling me?” Harry’s face goes from confusion to determined to find out what his friend is keeping from him. Louis can see the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek.

Zayn lets out a long sigh, “Mer is dating Ben.” He rushes it out in one quick breath, almost too fast for Louis to catch it. When he registers what Zayn just said, Louis’ eyes fly to Harry, and he sees the way his face crumbles for a moment, before he seems to think better of it. Regaining his composure, he twists his lips into a thin line and his eyes harden.

“I see.” It’s all that Harry says, but it’s icy and cold and Louis can swear he feels a cold chill pass through all of them. It’s quiet almost like they’re all afraid to say the wrong thing, just waiting for Harry. To do what? Louis isn’t quite sure.

And then it’s like a light switch turns on, and Harry Styles TM  is back and in full force. Harry smirks, no emotion showing in his eyes and Louis’ heart aches, as Harry starts making sexual innuendos and parading around like some kind of gigolo. He proceeds to serve them all tumblers full of bourbon, and Louis declines, still trying to figure out what just happened. Zayn and Liam accept the glasses, but the rest of the afternoon feels tainted somehow, and Louis knows he’s missed a very important piece of the puzzle that is Harry.

 

***Harry***

“Bye, babe. Thanks for coming.” Harry presses a kiss to Zayn’s cheek and accepts a bear hug from Liam. It had only been a week since seeing them but he’d missed them, despite the news they’d brought.

Harry’s a little tipsy, good bourbon always hits him hard, and he’s feeling off-center ever since Zayn mentioned Ben. Mer dating Ben is just the tip of the iceberg — he knows there’s more there, more to pick at, dig up until he’s raw with it, but he wants to avoid it as long as he can. He walks back to the living room, where Louis is sitting with his legs tucked under his bum in the corner of the sofa. For a brief moment Harry had forgotten about his visitor. “Hey.” Louis greets him, rolling his water bottle between his delicate hands.  

“Hey.” Harry helps himself to another glass of bourbon, the amber liquid is mesmerizing in the low light of the candles he lit earlier. The cool breeze coming in off the ocean makes him shiver, but he doesn’t want to close the door — he wants to feel it, needs it to keep him awake, even if it’s just so he can drink longer.

“Wanna talk about it?” Louis asks softly. Harry’s eyes slide over to Louis and he sees how soft he looks, yet pensive. And, yeah. He does want to talk about it. He’s surprised, but he does. And yet…

Louis is a hired ghostwriter, not his friend. Harry’s opened up to so many people before who’ve let him down, who’ve abused his trust. How can he be sure Louis isn’t going to do the same? Why should he trust his instinct now? Harry’s tempted to push him away the same way he did the last time he felt uncomfortably exposed in front of Louis. But over the last 24 hours he can’t help but feel things are different between them now, less formal somehow. As Louis looks at him with those deep blue eyes, concern etched into every fine line, Harry feels like maybe the other man really does want to be there for him — listen to him. Harry sighs and sips his drink. He decides to tell Louis, partly because it feels like a noose tightening around his neck and partly because he doesn’t want Louis left to make his own conclusions.  

He slumps down in one of the chairs across from Louis, glass on his knee, legs spread wide. Louis watches him as Harry considers what he wants to share. He finds he doesn’t even have it in him to be playful — wanting to get right down to it now that he’s decided to confide in Louis. “We, um...whatever you write in this book, um...I get to look at it first, right?”

If Louis is surprised he doesn’t show it. “Of course Harry. This is your book. I’m just providing you with the shell, the backbone. We can put in or take out whatever you want, yeah?”

Harry sighs and runs his free hand through his hair. “Yeah. Ok.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sound the soft music from the stereo system and the waves outside. He breathes in and let’s it out slowly. “So, Ben.”

Harry bites his lip and and tries to keep the emotions at bay, tries to keep them down so they won’t rise to the surface and push him into a tailspin. He’s worked so hard to put all of it behind him and these days, when he thinks of that time in his life he tries really hard to just acknowledge it and move on. But tonight, hearing Ben’s name again, especially hearing he was dating one of their mutual friends...someone who was actually there for Harry back then, well, that affected him a hell of a lot more than he’d expected.

“Ben and I dated. You know that.” Louis nods his head and waits for Harry to continue.  

Harry takes a long drink of his bourbon, appreciating the burn as it goes down his throat. “And um, it ended badly. For Ben, our relationship was like a publicity thing…” he runs a hand over his face, feeling so tired, remembering how Ben’s name had been in the papers and the gossip rags, and how offer after offer started pouring in for him, right in front of Harry’s eyes. He'd been played. And in the worst way. “But for me...for me it was the real thing. And Ben — he just...moved on? Told me it had never even meant anything to him ––  _ I _ had never meant anything to him –– and so I should just...get over it? So, like. I was heartbroken and Meri...Mer was there for me. She was. She was friends with both of us but she was really there for me during that time.”

“I see.” Louis’ voice is calm, even. Exactly what Harry needs.

“Afterward I kind of lost control. I...um. I started drinking a lot, did a lot of drugs. You know — sort of typical.  _ Sad _ .” He lets out a bitter laugh, dragging out the word dramatically. He swallows around the lump rising in his throat before speaking. “And, well. I started sleeping around. A lot.”

Louis doesn’t look surprised. Of course he doesn’t, he read the stories, the sordid headlines.  

“Not as much as was reported. God, no! I never went to a sex club and snorted coke off of some chick’s ass. And I never picked up guys and fucked them in the back of taxis. That shit was all made up.” He scratches behind his knee and puts the glass on a coaster on the table. “I was careful. Always used protection. Just. Slept around a lot. I was  _ hurt _ . I felt so fucking  _ stupid _ . You know? I mean, if all I was good for was a laugh and a quick fuck then maybe it would feel better if I was the one controlling it for once.”

Harry looks out the floor to ceiling windows and for a moment Louis  _ gets _ it. He understands why the other man always looks to the sea for answers. There’s a tranquility there, yet a constant sense of motion. Louis remembers reading once that the reason the ocean looks multicolored in shades of blue and green is because of many variables — light, depth, current...So much going on beneath the surface. Much like Harry.  

Harry sighs and turns back to Louis, a look of determination on his face as he continues, “Like, I wasn’t going to let anyone get under my skin again, I wasn’t going to open my heart, and I definitely wasn’t going to let anyone see the real me, you know? It felt like the only thing that could take the pain away was to shut down, get high, and get fucked up. Literally.” He laughs bitterly before adding on, not quite the afterthought he means for it to be, “Make me forget.” He swallows thickly again, the taste of alcohol still in his mouth. “Until I couldn’t.”

“What happened, Harry?” Louis’ face is pinched, worry etched across his brow.

“I started missing work. Missed a few auditions, some meetings...my management company dropped me. I, um...it was a pretty low point for me. And there was Ben, out there still making movies, still in the limelight and I was  _ devastated _ . Fuck.” Harry rubs at his eyes, feeling stupid and small. It’s been over two years, for Christ’s sake — five since Zac, and yet it all feels like yesterday as he relives it in his mind, the words clogged in his throat as he tries to explain it to Louis. He takes a deep breath. “And in a lot of ways I don’t think I ever got over what happened with Zac, you know?”

Louis raises an eyebrow, looking confused, as he should be. Harry hasn’t exactly been forthcoming — trying to lure Louis into bed with all of his sexual expertise. “Zac and I didn’t exactly break up on good terms either. He um...he was cheating on me. I caught him...f — fucking someone else.” His voice breaks and he’s so  _ low  _ right now. Feels like he might not ever get up again.  

Something in Louis’ expression breaks and he slips off the couch and he comes to stand between Harry’s legs. He drops to his knees and places his hands on Harry’s thighs, tentatively at first, more sure after a moment. “What happened?”

“I just. I was so young. And I thought we were so in love, you know? I never let myself really get over it.” Exasperation creeps into his tone. He’s gone over this with Chantel. Too many times. But telling it to Louis feels important somehow. “And when I met Ben I was so...stupid. I let someone use me in the same shitty way all over again and I didn’t even  _ realize _ I was doing it!”

“Hey, hey. You weren’t stupid.” Louis rubs his hands on Harry’s thighs and it doesn’t feel sexual — at all, it feels...comforting. Good. “You were young and he should have never…”

“It’s ok, Lou. It is. I’m...over it now. The thing is that I just kind of lost it after Ben and I broke up. I just went kind of nuts until I almost lost myself.” It’s quiet for a moment and Louis is still looking at him with those eyes — full of kindness and caring and it  _ breaks  _ Harry. He has to finish now. Knows he owes Louis the whole story.

“I — I finally went home with the wrong person. It wasn’t — nothing happened, but he had kind of a big crush on me from back when I was on  _ Infinity _ . Anyway, this guy was kind of a zealot? He um...freaked me out, said he wanted me to stay. He had posters of me all over his flat. Said he loved me — just scary shit, like he was obsessed with me or something. He um...tried to restrain me. But I managed to get out of there — left half my clothes there — called Mer and she picked me up.”  

It was quiet, the only sound was Louis’ breathing and the rain that had been threatening for days finally starting to fall outside. Harry looked right into Louis’ eyes and confided, “She stayed with me that night and the next day took me to a therapist.”

“Harry…” Louis breathes out before pulling himself up and Harry forward so he could hug him. It’s a brief hug, more of a gesture, really, but it feels like giving something up to Harry.  

Harry pulls away and wipes away a few unshed tears. “Yeah. So, like. Hearing that she’s dating Ben when she knows how he treated me and how being with him fucked me up so badly, it kind of feels like a low blow? And yeah, it’s just one more person that I trusted who fucking shit on me in return.”

Louis just nods and sits back on his heels. “What happened after Mer took you to the therapist?”

“Working with the therapist helped me start to dry out — I learned how to manage my alcohol use. I stepped away from acting. Gave up drugs. Gave up sex. Gave up a lot of things. Gave up hating myself — blaming myself. Instead I worked on myself. I forgave myself. Forgave Zac and Ben and anyone else who had hurt me. I worked on learning how to embrace gratitude and how to learn from my mistakes. I just...I learned how to be me.” Louis gives him a small smile. “I learned how to  _ like _ me. Sometimes I forget that it’s actually ok to like myself though. I’m learning, you know? Sometimes I just slip back into those old patterns of behavior.”  

Louis has such an open, sweet expression on his face, it makes Harry feel half way ok about telling him this shit — shit he’s only really talked to his therapist about.  “I know — I mean, I  _ think  _ I know what you mean,” Louis finally says, biting his lip as he thinks over Harry’s words.  And it gives Harry the courage to finish.  

“So, like...when I first met you I just.  _ Fuck _ . You’re beautiful.  _ Exquisite  _ — you don’t even know, Louis. And, I...I didn’t know how to act. It’s been so long — forever, really  — since I’ve known how to just be  _ real  _ you know? So, I — I’m sorry. I really was a dick. I — the only way I can describe it is like...you know when you try on an old pair of jeans and they don’t really feel like they used to, like they're too tight in the arse or like...there’s a rip in them that didn’t used to be there?”

And, thank Christ, Louis still looks like he’s with him, like he’s understanding him, he chuckles a little at Harry’s stupid, stupid jeans analogy, but patiently waits for him to finish. “Right. Well.  That’s how it was for me. I didn’t know how to act when I met you. And acting like the old me just didn’t  _ feel  _ right anymore. Because I’d never met anyone that  _ looked  _ like you, that  _ acted  _ like you. And it scared me — still does — so I just. Acted like a proper twat. Like how I had gotten used to behaving after everything went to shit with Ben. I hope you know by now that that’s not how I really am.”

Harry is whispering by the time he finishes but it feels like he’s yelling, feels like he’s on top of a rooftop screaming into the sky. It feels like being washed clean. It feels liberating. It feels kind of cliche and so very Californian — hippie zen and all that but at the same time it feels like, for the first time in a long time, that he has a friend. Because Louis looks like he’s not listening in order to complete an assignment. He’s not listening because he’s trying to use Harry in some way. He looks like he’s listening to Harry so intently because he actually  _ cares  _ about him.  

That feels novel, new. It feels like something he’s earned.  

 

***Louis***

Louis has never been more conscious of his own breathing as he is in this very moment.  

_ Inhale, exhale. _

He tries his best to focus on everything Harry is telling him. About Ben and Mer, and Harry’s past conquests. It’s a lot of information to take in, and Louis is having trouble not showing how much this is really affecting him. He finds himself really  _ feeling  _ for Harry, understanding him. Not only because he’s been through so much, and he’d love nothing more than to punch Ben Winston out cold, but because Louis never thought he’d find himself having something in common with Harry Styles. This is all bringing back bad memories for Louis, of a past he’d like to forget. A time where he was also taken advantage of by someone with more power than him. Never in his life did he think he’d be relating to Harry.

“I learned how to  _ like _ me.” Harry whispers, his eyes intense on Louis’. That shakes him out of his thoughts. Harry looks so open and vulnerable, it almost feels like too much for Louis. Like he’s unworthy of this information Harry is entrusting him with.  

It’s a lot.

At the same time he’s grateful to know, because he feels like he was missing something — something valuable, priceless, about Harry and now that he’s got it, he has a more accurate picture of the man sitting in front of him. Louis hates admitting when he’s wrong about something, but he was so damn wrong about the preconceptions he’d built up about Harry. Guilt washes over him as he thinks about the attitude he had his first day here.

Louis puts his hand on Harry’s arm, trying his best to be comforting. “Harry I’m...God, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Harry shakes his head, curls tumbling in front of his face, “I don’t regret what happened. I got to learn from that experience and I think I’m a stronger person today because of it. Like I said, I’ve forgiven Ben, and Mer...well it was a shock to hear today, but I’ll be able to let it go. It just takes time to work through it, you know?

This time, Louis lets himself get closer, he reaches to tuck Harry’s hair behind his ear, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Harry’s lips curve into a small, bashful smile and Louis considers that a win. “Thank you...for listening. It’s nice venting to someone who isn’t my therapist,” he says.

They both laugh lightly. Louis looks into Harry’s eyes and sees himself reflected back. It feels so good to have less between them. Harry gives him a thankful look that eventually morphs into something more playful. “Wanna...Netflix and chill?” He eventually says with a dorky wiggle of the eyebrow and a more than excessive display of dimple.

Louis laughs, loud and quite unmanly, he’s ashamed to admit, as the mood changes quickly.  But he gets it. It’s been enough sad talk for one day. He pushes himself up to standing and reaches out his hand, trying to ignore the thrill that zips through him when Harry takes it in his larger palm. “Sounds like a plan,” he says, letting Harry drag him deeper into the house. He’s ok to be led this time.  

 

***

The rest of the afternoon and evening is spent with just the two of them, uninterrupted. Harry invites Louis to binge watch Sense 8 on Netflix in his favorite room in the house (which is far superior to every other space in the house — even the bathroom shower — Louis admits to himself) and they do. They make homemade popcorn, Harry makes a fresh batch of that delicious green tea, and they spend the evening watching the show. Harry tells him how he’d auditioned for the role of Lito, but he didn’t get it.

“You would have been perfect for that role,” Louis tells him.

Harry shrugs, “It’s alright, I still wasn’t completely ready to be back so I’m not upset about it. Plus, this guy is great.”

It’s not until the end of the night, when they both startle to find that it’s almost midnight that Louis realizes they never resumed their interview like they had planned. And Louis can’t bring himself to even care, because the way that he got to know Harry today, well, he thinks it’s better than interviewing for a book.  

So much better.

 

*******

_ Knock knock knock _

Louis grunts at the sound on his door, squinting his eyes open. It’s still dark outside—what time is it? He reaches for his phone, the brightness of it too much, way too much light. It’s barely 5am. Ugh.

_ Knock knock knock _

“Louis?”

What the hell is Harry doing outside his room at 5 in the morning? With the late night they’d had, Louis was hoping to get to sleep in again.

_ Knock knock knock  _

Louis reluctantly gets out of bed and with heavy feet walks to the door, taking the doorknob and twisting it open. On the other side is the softest looking Harry that Louis has ever seen. He's wearing basketball shorts, a grey hoodie, and he’s got his hair pulled up into a loose bun.

“What is it?” Louis mumbles out, his eyes still feeling heavy with sleep.

Harry suddenly doesn't look as sure of himself as he did when Louis first opened the door. His eyes drop to the floor and he's biting his bottom lip nervously, not in the seductive way Louis is used to seeing. Again, Louis realizes that this  _ new _ Harry has emerged. It’s different, and Louis kind of likes it.

“I was just wondering...if you wanted to go for a walk...and watch the sunrise by the beach?” Harry's eyes are back on Louis and they look nervous and hopeful. Louis would feel like a complete dick turning him down.

Louis lets out a breath, “Sure let me just throw something more appropriate on.”

Harry's face lights up, his dimple out and his teeth are pearly white and so adorable it warms Louis’ heart.

“Okay, I'll wait for you in the kitchen then.”

Louis throws on some trackies and his favorite Adidas sweater. As he fumbles with his clothes in the soft light of the bedside lamp, he wonders what Harry’s up to. He remembers yesterday and how open and vulnerable Harry was and he wonders if that might have anything to do with why he’s up at such an ungodly hour. Maybe Harry regrets being so honest with Louis, and he’s about to get another dose of Harry Styles™. Louis hopes not. He sighs and tries to remind himself that not everyone is a miserable piece of shit — god knows Louis’ had enough experience with that before. But...old habits die hard. Louis knows that as much as anyone. He tries to shake off the melancholy that settles in his chest as he heads toward the kitchen.  

Harry is waiting for him by the foyer with a basket in his arm. “What's that?” Louis asks, pointing to said basket, and Harry startles a bit, not having noticed him.

Harry looks down at his arm, “Oh nothing. Just a little something I threw together in case we get hungry.” He waves his hand, adding, “you ready?”

Louis nods and follows Harry out the door. They cross the patio and as they begin traipsing across the garden Louis realizes with a start that Harry hasn’t made one lewd comment or gesture since Zayn and Liam left yesterday after lunch. Louis likes it.

The sky isn't as dark as it was when Louis had first woken up — it's a dark grey, meaning it won't be much longer before the sun comes up.

“So where exactly are we going?” Louis asks as he follows Harry along a stone path that leads them towards the beach. Neither of them bothered to put shoes on and the sand feels cool and damp between his toes as soon as his feet touch it.

“I want to show you another one of my favorite spots. I come here a lot to meditate and just relax, especially when I'm having a bad day,” Harry tells him, his voice sounding sincere and genuine. “I thought you’d...um...like it.”

Louis is surprised that Harry actually thought about him like that, if at all. The fact that he’s been hauled out of bed so early to see something that obviously means a lot to Harry makes Louis feel something he can’t quite point out. It’s nice. He likes feeling like he’s one of the very few people who gets to see Harry like this.

It’s a bit chilly outside, the wind blows against Louis’ face, so he walks closer to Harry, the larger man blocking the wind a bit and spreading a never ending sense of warmth from his body to Louis’. The smell of sand, wildflowers, and ocean are heavy in Louis’ nose as he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and taking it all in. When he opens them he’s startled to see the vast and seemingly endless ocean stretched out before them like a deep ebony blanket. The way the lightening sky is shimmering above them makes the water look so smooth it’s almost as if you could walk on it. Louis’ so transfixed he feels he could stay here forever. He’s surprised when they stop –– he’d been so taken with the scenery, he didn’t realize they’d reached their destination.  

Harry’s taken them up a small bluff and is spreading a blanket on the ground.  

“Let me help,” Louis murmurs, the feeling of the cool, quiet air and the serenity that seems to roll off the water makes him want to speak softly, in reverence of the space they’re in.   

They finish smoothing out the blanket and sit next to each other, shoulders touching. Louis doesn’t realize how close they’re sitting until the light starts to spread like a soft, muted halo around them. He finds he doesn’t mind it, likes it, actually, likes the feeling of Harry’s solid body next to his. Likes the way it feels to be so small next to someone in the face of such enormity — the entire world spread out before them in the majesty of sea, sky, and land. A trinity in perfect harmony. It’s breathtaking. It’s like being on top of the world.

“Would you like some tea?” Harry asks, taking Louis out of his thoughts. Louis meets his eyes and sees the way the shadows are dancing across his face and finds himself holding his breath at the beauty in the other man’s eyes, his lips, the smooth planes of his face. Louis nods, not taking his eyes off of Harry as Harry looks down, takes out a thermos and prepares two paper cups.

Wordlessly, Harry hands him one of the cups. “Milk? Sugar?”  

Louis prepares his tea and goes back to watching the sea. He feels like something big is about to happen, but nothing prepares him for when it actually does. In slow motion, the night sky begins to give way to rays of orange and yellow light, their appearance on the horizon like the first notes of a symphony. A few bold red streaks skip their way through the softer light and it makes Louis’ heart beat faster. He wants to  _ write  _ about it — describe it in all of its glorious detail. He wants to write about how the colors blend like the feeling of a lover’s sigh against your skin, it’s comforting and foreboding all at once,  _ exhilarating _ , like a secret.

He’s reminded of something his mum used to say when he was little.  _ Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky at dawn, sailors take warn.  _ He never knew what that meant, thought she was silly for even saying it. But now, staring at the reddened sky that was gasping its last breaths as the orange and yellow pulled it down under the horizon, making way for the bright blue that seemed hellbent on greeting the day...now it just seemed right.  

The new day was here. And with it came uncertainty. Louis was never good with uncertainty.  He liked making plans and knowing exactly what was going to happen. He liked a clear path. He liked seeing how the dots connected. Here, in the middle of one of the most awe-inspiring scenes he’s ever witnessed, he realizes that he’s been in limbo. He’s been on a path and has stalled. He’s been waiting for something outside of himself to tell him to do something — to move, to act. And really, all along, he’s been waiting for himself.

His eyes mist over and he takes a deep, shaky breath. Harry turns to him and whispers, “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, “It’s  _ beautiful _ . Thanks for bringing me here.” It’s something that Louis has never experienced before, and he’s glad that Harry dragged him out of bed to come see this. This should be experienced at least once in a lifetime, he thinks. Louis wants to take his phone out of his pocket to take pictures, but he knows they won’t do the scene in front of him justice. He’ll have to rely on memory, on his feelings, to remember this moment.  

“Do you watch the sunrise often?” Louis asks, breaking the silence between them.

“Usually I’ll come do yoga over here as the sun rises. I feel it’s a good kickstart to my day.”  Harry tells him, smiling. The wind is still blowing, making the soft curls around Harry’s hairline flutter around his face.

Louis nods, and wraps his arms around his knees, continuing to admire the wonderful view. It’s hypnotizing in a way, and he feels himself getting lost in his thoughts, trying to pick up the thread of what had been going through his mind before, wondering what it meant, as he watches the waves crash on the beach.  

“Are you hungry?” Harry’s voice brings him back again. He’s got toast, jam, butter, and some fruit and he lays it all out for them.  

Louis stomach growls, “Yeah...Looks amazing.”

Louis takes some jam and spreads it over his toast, taking a bite of it. “Oh my god, this is so good, what  _ is _ this?”

Harry blushes, his cheeks dust a carnation pink, the light brightening around them so Louis can finally see the natural colors as they appear on Harry’s gorgeous face. “It’s cantaloupe preserves and cinnamon. I made it myself,” he says taking a bite of his own piece of toast.  Louis is pretty sure the bread is homemade.

“It’s delicious. Do you do a lot of cooking?” Louis asks.

Harry shrugs, “Pretty much. It’s also relaxing, and I love trying new recipes. Just the other day I tried making sweet potato fries, they didn’t turn out too bad, I think.”

“ _ You _ made that?” Louis doesn’t mean to sound so shocked, but he is. Harry was responsible for him having one of the best meals he’d had in a while.

Harry chuckles, “Yeah I do all the cooking around here, Gloria is just my helper.”

“Well look at you, all full of surprises. Well, let me say thank you for all the food, it’s honestly been incredible,” Louis tells him, and he takes the last bites of his toast as if to make a point.  

“So, Louis...do you have any hobbies?” Harry asks casually as he hands Louis some grapes and pops one into his own mouth.  

“Not really...I write a lot of my own stuff when I’m not ghostwriting, not much time for anything else,” Louis says.

“What kind of stuff do you like to write about? I mean...if you don’t mind sharing,” Harry says.

Louis thinks about it for a moment and realizes that he does want to share this piece of information with Harry. He doesn’t know if it’s the scenery, or the way that Harry has been so genuine with him so far today, but he finds himself wanting to share something personal about himself.

“Well, I used to do screenwriting, but um…”  Louis coughs, he decides not to go into  _ that _ part of his past. At least, not yet, “I decided to leave that, so now I write poems here and there, and um...I’ve also written a novel.” Louis looks at Harry, and his eyebrows raise in interest.

Harry’s mouth widens in awe, “Wow. That’s amazing. What’s it about?”

Louis is relieved that Harry chose to focus on the novel, he feels his face heating up, and doesn’t want to spoil the moment — the tentative peace that’s between them, but he also feels bashful all of a sudden, as if telling Harry about his novel will be sharing a part of him that he’s not sure he wants to share. But he’d rather talk about his novel than the other part of his past he’d like to forget and put behind him. “Um, well...it’s a kid from a small town in England who, like, wants to grow up to be an actor?”

Harry sips his tea and nods encouragingly.

“And, because of some shit that happens in his life, he like...ends up raising his brothers and sisters and takes over the family business and never ends up following his dream.” Louis swallows thickly and picks at a loose thread on the blanket beneath them. It’s quiet, the only sound a few gulls and the waves picking up below them as the sun rises in the sky.

Harry coughs and presses gentle fingers into Louis’ ankle. Louis feels a sharp bolt of heat travel up his leg as he snaps his head up to meet Harry’s eyes. 

“Yeah?” Harry asks, not unkindly, more like he’s...interested. Louis nods and turns his head back to the sea.

“You sound like you know a little something about the topic,” Harry comments, voice still soft, and Louis isn’t sure if this is another one of those times when Harry is baiting him or if he really wants to know. And, god, Louis  _ hates _ that his first inclination is always to be suspicious of people’s motives, but damn it, there are reasons he’s that way.

Louis decides to change the subject, no longer feeling comfortable putting himself out there. He’s supposed to be learning more about Harry, after all. “Yeah. Well. It’s fiction, so…”

Harry hums and squeezes Louis’ ankle again, his long fingers nearly wrapping all the way around. Louis gulps and wants to shake Harry off of him like a wet dog after a bath. He also kind of wants to push him down on the blanket and climb on top of him and snog him senseless.

He glances back at Harry and Harry is already there, staring back. Louis can see, now that it’s fully light outside, how Harry’s pupils darken and the way his skin has flushed and Louis feels like maybe Harry is just as affected by the feeling of their proximity and his hand on Louis’ ankle and the way the tea has warmed them from the inside out.   

And then, just like that, the moment is gone. Harry glances away and puts another grape in his mouth, leaving Louis to examine his profile. He’s striking — almost puts the sunrise to shame.

“That sounds interesting, Louis,” Harry says, finally, his voice deeper than before, huskier.

Without thinking Louis says, with maybe a little more swagger than the statement warrants, “It is.” He watches Harry’s mouth curve up into a crooked smile as he adds, “too bad we’re writing a book about you and not me.”

Harry’s entire face breaks into a wide smile and he looks back at Louis. They stare for a moment, both of them grinning like fools and it feels like something has broken between them — whatever little bit that was still keeping them at arm’s length from each other. Whatever it is, and maybe it’s because of the miracle of the California sunrise that they just witnessed — it feels lesser, gone almost, and Louis is relieved. Maybe they can get some real work done now.  

He finds he actually  _ wants  _ to.

“Well, I’ll definitely want to hear more about that sometime in the future. If you’d want to of course. Unfortunately, I should get going. My therapist is due to get here in about an hour, and there’s some things I’ve got to attend to before she gets here.” Harry starts to get up, collecting everything and placing it back into the basket.  

Louis stands up and brushes some of the sand from his trackies. “Yeah, sure. Thanks again, for you know…” he gestures around them, “For everything, I guess.”

Harry smiles, “Thank you for joining me Louis. Can we get together to write after lunch? I’ll see you for lunch, right?” This time his question sounds like Louis actually has a choice to accept or decline Harry’s invitation. It’s a nice change.

Louis nods, “Yes, of course. That sounds good. I’ll see you then, Harry.”

Harry waves, and turns around to head back to the house. As Louis sits back down, content to watch the waves for a little while longer, he watches Harry’s retreating figure and wonders if that part of Harry, the posturing part, is gone for good, carried away by the waves at dawn. Louis is pretty sure he’d like that. 

  ***Harry***

_ Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. _

“Harry.”

The yellow tennis ball slips past Harry’s hands and falls unceremoniously onto his forehead.  “Fuck.”

Chantel, the management team  _ ordered  _ therapist, is looking at him expectantly.

“Right. Sorry. What did you say?”

She takes a deep breath, smoothing out her pastel skirt over her knees, and levels him with an icy stare. Well, she tries to. Harry gives her  _ that  _ smile and she melts. Putty in his hands.  _ Honestly _ . “I asked, how do you feel about having a stranger in your house — a stranger who’s charged with writing a book you don’t want to have written about you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry scratches his head and sits up from the sofa he was reclining on. They’re in his study and he’s sitting where Louis sat the other day. It feels like a lot longer….what was he saying? Right. “Um...I don’t think I really mind it, actually.”

Chantel’s eyebrow raises and she gestures for him to continue.  

“It’s like...you know how when you were a kid and you had an exam coming up?” Chantel nods, so Harry continues, “and like, you dread it and dread it and dread it and then when it’s time to take it you’re like —  _ oh _ . This isn’t so bad.”

“So, you don’t think writing the book will be that bad?”

“Fuck, no. The book is going to be a complete waste of time. I meant Louis.”

Chantel wrinkles her forehead and scribbles something on her pad. Harry rolls the ball between his palms, fingers splayed. She’s always scribbling things in that pad of hers. Sometimes he makes shit up so he can just watch her frantically try to keep up.  

“So, Louis — that’s the ghostwriter, right?”  

Harry nods. Chantel continues, slowly, “You don’t mind having  _ Louis  _ around but you still don’t want to write the  _ book _ .”

“Exactly!” Harry feels pleased that Chantel got it so quickly and that he doesn’t have to talk about  _ feelings  _ and shit like she’s so fond of.  

“Back up a minute, Harry.”

Ah fuck. Maybe not.

“What is it about Louis that makes you say that?”

“What? What makes you think…”

“I mean...in all the time we’ve been seeing each other you’ve never brought up another person the way you just brought up Louis — “

“I didn’t  _ ‘bring him up’ _ . I just said I don’t mind having him around.” Harry has no clue what she’s getting at. Sure, Louis is nice to look at and, if Louis offered, Harry would fuck him at the drop of a dime and sure, they’ve had a few really nice moments over the past few days but it’s nothing.  _ Nothing _ . Well, it might be more than nothing, but if it’s anything it’s just that they’ve become friends. Harry realizes he may be lying to himself, but he’s just not up for discussing it with Chantel today. Or maybe ever.  

“Well…” Chantel looks up from her pad and gives him one of those soul-searching looks she’s so fond of.  “A few sessions ago we talked about the possibility of you having a sex addiction.”  

Harry huffs out an angry breath. “Nooooo,  _ you  _ talked about me having a sex addiction. I like sex. I was out of control with sex for a while. But I’m back in control and I am  _ not  _ an addict.” Harry’s voice is rising because he thinks it's ridiculous that Chantel is bringing this up again. He likes sex. There is nothing wrong with that.  

“Look, Harry. Can I be straight with you?”

“I wish you would.”  

“Your management hired me, in part, to make sure you didn’t go down any of those paths you did before. Those  _ destructive  _ paths. And to me, it’s worth talking about if you have a man staying under your roof with you for an extended period of time when you haven’t had…”  she looks down at her pad, “sex in a ‘long arse time’, your admission, not mine.” She looks smug when she finishes and Harry kind of hates her for it.

Mostly because she’s right.

“How do you know he’s even my type?” Harry finally says, flippant. “I mean. He could be an absolute troll.”

“He’s not a troll, Harry.”

“How do you know?” He challenges.

“Because you look and sound happier than you have since I met you.” 

Harry makes an undignified sound and looks down at his white skinny jeans that are practically painted on him. “I..I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Harry attempts to avoid his therapist’s gaze, but the sound of the displeased sound she makes catches his attention.

“Hmhm,” Chantel hums. She drops her notepad and pen in her bag and adjusts one of the many bangles on her long, slender arm. “I just want you to be careful, Harry. Having sex again, or even thinking about it, after you’ve gone so long without it — after everything you’ve been through — well, it’s a big step. And you have to be in the right frame of mind for it, you know?  We’ve talked about this, a lot. You have to know you’re ready, Harry.”

Harry gives her a solemn nod and parrots, “A big step. Got it.”

She gives him a very Chantel look that translates into  _ stop being a smart arse and signal that you understand _ .

“I understand,” Harry says softly, thankful for Chantel’s persistence, thankful for her firm and direct manner of speaking.  “I do,” he assures her.

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “Be careful, yeah? Remember you can call me.  Any time. Day or night. Okay?”

“Chantel — stop it now, or I’m going to think you’re jealous.”  

She flicks him on the ear and gathers her things, calling out a “See you next week,” over her shoulder and then she’s gone, the smell of her perfume and way too much to think about left behind, puzzling Harry  _ and  _ making him want to sneeze. He knows she’s right, though, as much as it pains him to admit it. And, he  _ may  _ be entertaining the notion that Louis just might be the one he wants to break his celibacy for. But still...he doesn’t even know if Louis feels the same way about him. So. It’s probably pointless.

He gets up and leaves the study, deep in thought, heading to the kitchen to make sure Gloria doesn’t need any help with lunch.  

He’s still thinking about the fact that having sex with Louis would be his first time in...over two years. What is he even talking about? He shakes his head. He is not having sex with his ghostwriter. He  _ wants _ to have sex with his ghostwriter but they are  _ not  _ having sex. But still...something changed between yesterday and this morning. Something changed between the two of them, and Harry finds himself thinking maybe, maybe, he wants to be friends with his ghostwriter. So all of this is just nonsense. No sex. Friends. Definitely just friends.

He’s still deep in thought as he turns the corner going into the kitchen when he bangs into a small, compact form. Curvy and soft, but not as curvy and soft as Gloria.

“Louis!” He all but shrieks.  

Louis looks dazed as he rubs his forehead, that had bumped Harry’s shoulder when they collided, and Harry notices that he’s sun-kissed and hot to the touch. “Hey,” he says, looking up at Harry. His eyes look so much more blue with a little color on his face — and they were outrageously blue before.  

“What are you —” he says at the same time as Louis says, “Was just coming to —” 

They laugh and Harry feels himself smiling fondly down at the other man. “What?”

“Was just coming to see if Gloria needed any help,” Louis says, still rubbing his head. “ _ Man _ .  You have a bony shoulder.”

Harry is about to spout some inappropriate joke about boning, boner, bone- _ something _ when he stops himself. He feels a little too somber for that, a little too off-center by what Chantel had said, not to mention he doesn’t want to say something embarrassing or stupid — or  _ demeaning _ .  And that’s just.  _ What _ ?  

“S — sorry about that,” he says instead, still looking at the way Louis’ eyes seem lit from within, making Harry only see Louis, nothing else.

“You ok? Did you, like, hit your head or something?” Louis asks, studying Harry’s face.  

“Nah. No — I’m fine. Um. Not sure where Gloria’s gone off to, but let me get our lunch, yeah?” He’s still a little off center from his therapy session and as he starts to move about the kitchen he’s thinking about what Chantel said and what he’s thinking about Louis as a friend and it’s all very confusing to him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll help,” Louis says, backing away from Harry. 

The thing is, Harry feels drawn to him so he just follows. The two of them are stuck, locked in each other’s deep gazes and Harry feels like he’s sinking right into the cool blue ocean. Louis backs right up to the countertop, his back hitting it softly and Harry walks right into his space. Harry’s trying to remember what he’s here to do, his therapist’s words echoing in his brain, he can’t remember what he came for but for the life of him all he can think is that Louis’ eyes are blue and Louis smells good and Louis is  _ fascinating _ . He wants to kiss him, he finds himself thinking, half dazed and stupid with lust — no, more than lust. Affection. The urge to taste Louis and feel his skin and the frame of his body against his and to make him smile  _ that  _ smile that Harry’s seen glimpses of the past few days...he just...

Louis coughs and breaks contact and Harry realizes that he’s being an absolute  _ creep _ , staring at his houseguest like he wants to eat him alive. As smoothly as he possibly can, he reaches over Louis’ head and murmurs, “Plates. Gotta get the…” he pulls down two plates and two bowls and lays them gently on the counter next to Louis. He reaches for two wine glasses and he feels Louis watching him and feels the shallow warm breaths from Louis’ mouth cascade down his arm.  

He backs away. Before he does something stupid. He’s literally shocked to find himself thinking with his brain instead of his dick.

“Um. I hope Gazpacho is good?” His voice is shaky and he hopes Louis doesn’t notice.

“I don’t know what that is but I’m sure it will be good. Everything you’ve made so far has been amazing.” Harry smiles at him, quickly looking away so Louis can’t see every stupid thought raging in his head, and he hands him a few items to carry.

They carry a tray of cubed melon, gazpacho and a bottle of Spanish white to the veranda. Between the two of them they set up the table efficiently, the ocean providing a calm soundtrack in the background.  

Harry sees Louis eye the soup suspiciously. “If you don’t like it I’m sure I’ve got some peanut butter and jelly somewhere,” he teases.

“No, no. It’s just. It’s cold?” His eyes are wide as he watches Harry scoop some from his bowl and spoon it into his mouth.

“I could heat it if you want,” Harry says around a mouthful. It turned out really well this time. He hopes Louis doesn’t want it warmed, it might not be as good.

Louis shakes his head. “No, no. I’ll...when in Rome, right?” Harry watches as he purses his lips and spoons a very small amount, almost too small to really taste, into his mouth. Harry tries not to get too caught up in the way Louis’ lips look fitted around the spoon like that. Louis stares at Harry while he experiences his first mouthful and after a few very long, quiet seconds he rolls his head back and moans. “Holy  _ fuck _ is that good!” He exclaims.

Harry roars with laughter, the expression on Louis’ face is so priceless. He looks honestly surprised that he likes it. “Yeah? You like?” His stomach flips with the fact that he’s made Louis act,  _ look _ , like that. So happy.

Louis shakes his head and shovels three more bites into his mouth in rapid succession. “It’s heavenly. Harry. My  _ god _ .”

Harry chuckles and pours them both a healthy glass of wine. He raises his glass and Louis mirrors him. “To new experiences.”

“To new experiences,” Louis agrees, taking a sip. “And to continuing to be surprised,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.  

Harry tilts his head and smirks, intrigued by what exactly Louis means by that. They eat in comfortable silence while Louis watches the ocean. “Do you ever get used to this?” He asks, waving his hand at the horizon. 

Harry thinks for a moment. “Not really? I mean. It’s my home, right? But, it’s also... _ this _ . So yeah.  I forget sometimes but lately…”

“Lately what?” Louis’ voice is quiet and he puts his spoon down, holding his glass halfway to his mouth.  

Harry takes a deep breath and looks out at the water himself. “You know. What I said yesterday.  Lately I’ve been just trying to remember to be grateful.”

Louis nods and runs a finger around the edge of his glass, contemplating Harry’s words. “Yeah. I think I know what you mean.”

“Right. So.” Harry feels vulnerable all of a sudden — wanting to change the subject. “What sorts of embarrassing questions do you have cooked up for me this afternoon?” 

Louis grimaces. “Hey now. That’s not fair.”

“No, I suppose not. I’ve been a bit of an arse, haven’t I?”

Louis is silent. Harry puffs up, “Well, hey, you don’t have to agree with me or anything!”

Louis giggles and drains his glass. “I’m not agreeing.” He shakes the glass in front of Harry.  Harry refills it and tops his off as well. “I’m not disagreeing either.”

Harry isn’t sure if he wants to kick him or tackle him to the ground and smother him with kisses.  “Ok, wise guy.” Harry takes a long, slow drink from his glass, fully aware of the fact that Louis is watching him intently. “How about this...for every question I answer truthfully for you today, you answer one of mine in return?”

Harry folds his arms and leans back in his chair. The wine is crisp and sweet and Harry can feel it going to his head. It feels nice to be sitting outside on a beautiful day with a pretty boy, laughing and drinking. It feels...a little  _ unusual _ , given Harry’s forced hermitage of late, but nice.  He could get used to it.

Louis’ face is contorted and he’s working his lips as if he’s trying to find exactly the right words and it makes Harry giggle at how such a gorgeous man could look so beside himself over something as stupid as being asked to answer questions about himself.  

“That’s...I…” Louis drains another glass. Harry watches him, amused.

“Slow down there cowboy. I’ve got plenty more where that came from but I don’t fancy the idea of you passing out on me before I get to all the good stuff,” Harry drawls, leaning forward, his gauzy melon colored shirt half undone, his tan skin stark against the bright color. He stares Louis down waiting for a response.

“Um. Yeah. That’s. Ok.”  

Harry scratches his head and studies Louis for a long while. He wonders why he is acting so strange. Why is he so flustered all of a sudden and why does Harry want to find out so damn badly? He shakes his head and starts gathering up the dishes when Gloria suddenly makes an appearance. “No, no, no Mr. Styles and Mr. Tomlinson, allow me.”

“It’s Harry!” 

“It’s Louis!”

They both practically shout at the same time, and Louis looks relieved at the interruption. When Harry’s eyes dart to Louis’ he can see that the writer looks embarrassed and has flushed a lovely shade of rose — whether it was from the wine or the conversation or his little outburst toward Gloria, Harry isn't sure. But it makes something fizzy and warm light up inside of him. It’s nice to see that Louis Tomlinson is human, after all.  

 

***Louis***

“ _ Infinity  _ was your breakout role. Many have said that’s what made you into the Harry Styles everyone knows and loves. How did it feel for you? Knowing that you’d really made it?”  

They’ve been going at this for over an hour, and it’s been good. Harry seems to have forgotten about his little self-imposed game of quid pro quo and Louis isn’t complaining. The wine has been flowing and Louis has pages and pages of notes already. Harry is a lot more cooperative than the first day. He’s been giving many long and thoughtful answers to Louis’ questions. Louis thinks he’s already got plenty of material for the book, but he wants to know more about Harry. He’s such an interesting person now that he’s let most of his guard down and Louis feels as though he never wants to stop getting to know him.

This time, they stayed outside where there’s plenty of space and they don’t feel confined to one room. The scenery also seems to be helping Harry gather his thoughts. Every time he seems to get stuck on a question, trying to think of the best way to answer it, his gaze shifts out toward the ocean, and then it’s as if the roaring waves give him all the answers Louis needs to know. Louis watches him as he’s doing that again, the sunlight reflected on Harry’s eyes make them look like bright emeralds. So beautiful.

A smile appears on Harry’s lips, “It’s funny because I remember when we first started filming, it didn’t seem like people had really high hopes that the movie was going to do well. I remember hearing one of the crew guys saying something like ‘who’s gonna want to watch some teeny vampire movie where they fall in love and he sparkles in the sun’ and I didn’t care because I was going to be in a movie. My first lead role. So I gave it my all. I studied my lines every chance I got. Emma and I became really good friends and we’d hang out a lot when we weren’t filming. That’s how all the rumors about us started, and our teams just decided to roll with it since they could use all the press we could get,” Harry laughs at that part, “But I didn’t care. I mean, I’m obviously gay — gayer than gay, if that’s a thing. But...I didn’t care because I wanted those people who were expecting the movie to be a failure to be proven wrong. So I was going to do whatever it took to make it happen.”

Harry takes his glass of wine and takes a sip. They’ve already gone through a whole bottle and are halfway into a second one. Harry’s eyes still haven’t left the beautiful view before them.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious you proved them wrong,” Louis comments softly, feeling the satisfaction that Harry must have felt when he’d achieved that.

“I did. But you know, it didn’t really hit me until I was at the MTV movie awards. We had just won an award, I honestly don’t even remember what category it was, but we were backstage. Sir Ian McKellen was there to receive an achievement award or something and he came up to me and told me he loved my performance in  _ Infinity.  _ I think I almost fainted,” Harry laughs.

It’s so airy and one of the loveliest sounds Louis’ heard in awhile. Louis wants to make him laugh like that every chance he gets.

“You became pretty famous after that, how did it feel for you?” Louis continues.

Harry bites his lip, thoughtful. His eyebrows pinch together in concentration, and his eyes turn to look at Louis. “I feel like when people label people as famous, they take away a lot of substance that they have as a person. So you don’t remember someone as ‘He was funny’, or ‘They were really nice and giving’. It’s like ‘They were famous’, and then it becomes a thing where anything after that, whatever you choose to do afterwards…if it’s not as famous, or more famous than it was before, it’s considered a failure. And that’s a shame, because it’s not a failure, always.” His voice is slow and almost melodic, making Louis hang onto every word.

“Is that how you felt people perceived you when your other films didn’t do as well as  _ Infinity _ had?”

Harry tilts his head and presses his lip together, “I think the media took every chance they got to pick me apart, piece by piece. I don’t really like to think about that part of my life anymore because it feels like, back then, I was someone I don’t even recognize. It’s not the person I am today.” His voice fades at the last sentence. His eyes look sad, and he’s no longer smiling. Not wanting to rehash that part of Harry’s past, Louis takes that as his cue to wrap it up.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today, don’t you think? Why don’t we call it a day?” Louis says, saving all of his work and shutting down his laptop.

“Sure,” Harry says smiling, but Louis notices that it doesn’t reach his eyes. Louis wants to bring the brightness back to Harry’s eyes, he feels like he’d do almost anything to bring it back.

Louis takes a gulp of his wine, takes a deep breath and says, “Hey, didn’t we have a deal that I’d answer anything you want to know?” He hopes this will cheer Harry up, as reluctant as he is to engage in Harry’s little game.

Harry looks up at Louis at that, his eyebrows quirk in interest, “That’s right.”  Something still feels off though, like Harry hasn’t quite returned from wherever he was while thinking about his past.

Louis presses on, folding his hands behind his head, stretching himself out, shaking off the nerves. “Well then, ask away.”  

“Well, you know...I haven’t stopped thinking about your book, and the subject it covers,” Harry tells Louis, his face flushing pink, but his voice is still teasing again. That’s a good sign.  

“Oh yeah? And what about it?” Louis challenges. Louis feels a bit tipsy, and he doesn’t think he can be responsible for any admissions he might make during this conversation. He’ll worry about it in the morning when he’s sobered up.

“Do you...like...is any of it from your own personal experience?” Louis can’t believe that Harry is actually interested. It seems so direct, so precise. But, again, Louis thinks it’s a nice change of pace from the smug, shameless arsehole Harry seemed to be when they first met.

Louis lets out a deep sigh, “I mean. Yeah? To some degree it is. I like, always wanted to be an actor, was in theater as a kid in school, you know. Played Danny in Grease, even.” He looks up to find Harry leaning forward, keen interest in his bright green eyes. “But, you know. Chose writing instead, so.”  

He’s leaving a lot out — doesn’t feel quite ready to share everything with Harry, all of the self doubt, the rejections, the way his heart constricts when he thinks of what might have been. These are things Louis never lets himself think about, stuff he’s buried deep in the corners of his mind. He’s been avoiding dealing with them, and the last thing he wants to do is have those issues come to the surface for the first time in years in front of someone he’s only known for a couple of days. Louis’ not ready to let Harry in all the way just yet, despite how congenial he’s been today. Despite the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Harry’s eyes are big and they seem to see right through him as he pushes for more information. “Would you ever try to act? Or work in the business? You know, if the right opportunity came along?”  

Louis starts, but stills immediately. He never lets himself think that — never goes there, the threat of self-doubt and not being able to measure up always right there, under the surface. He doesn’t want to think back to that time when he almost thought he’d made it, only to find out he’d been used, played like a pawn in a stupid, selfish game. He’s starting to feel really uncomfortable with this line of questioning, and wants it to end, now. He smirks, not feeling the smile at all. “Nah,” he says. “If I were an actor I’d never get to interview celebrities and get the inside view on narcissists like you would I?”

Immediately he regrets it. Why would he say something like that? He didn’t mean to hurt Harry. He meant to be funny, light, but instead it came out bitter and mean. But he’d felt caged, backed into a corner by Harry’s questions. And shit, that’s what he’s been doing to Harry isn’t it? Although, it’s his job to do so. He doesn’t have to answer these personal questions. No one is writing  _ his _ memoir. And when did the line start getting so fucking blurry?

He  _ did  _ hurt Harry, if the look in the other man’s eyes is any indication and the way he looks out over the ocean, quickly, biting down on his bottom lip so hard it looks like it hurts, is anything to go by.  

Harry’s shoulders are tense and Louis is about to apologize when Harry turns toward him, fire in his expression and something mischievous, yet not really playful — darker, like a challenge. “Right. Well...it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”

Louis crosses his arms, immediately going on the defensive. The afternoon breeze feels cooler somehow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The air around them is suddenly filled with tension.

Harry cocks his head and fixes an appraising look on Louis’ face, eyes roaming everywhere, landing somewhere between his wide eyes and open mouth. “Just that...you seem pretty full of yourself, you know?”

Louis doesn’t know, but he wants to. He wants to know exactly what Harry’s getting at — wants to know what Harry sees when he looks at him. “ _ Really _ ? How so?” He can’t keep the flash of anger from his tone. Things had been going so well. Until they weren’t.

Harry gets up and, through hazy, slightly drunk eyes, Louis watches as the other man walks around the table, long fingers trailing along the wrought iron, cock at about eye level with Louis.  Louis swallows,  _ hard _ . Harry stops directly in front of him, looking down his nose at him and from this angle, Louis confusedly wonders what it would be like to mouth over the bulge between Harry’s legs, coax him to hardness, drive a series of pleasured moans from his throat. Wonders what it would be like to have Harry hold his head and  _ use _ him, his  _ mouth _ , to get what he wants.

_ What _ ? Where is his brain right now? He’s angry  _ dammit _ . Isn’t he? Why is he back to thinking that way about Harry? Louis looks up and watches Harry reach out and cup his jaw.  _ Fuck _ .

“I’ve opened up to you quite a bit these past few days...and yeah a lot of it is part of your job, but you know very well that most of that was told to you because…” Harry drops his hand from Louis’ face and Louis’ skin feels hot where Harry’s fingers were just touching him. Harry’s face twists in uncomfortable resignation until he finally just grunts and drops his hands to his sides. “I can’t...you…” Harry lets out a sigh as if just wants to give up — or will Louis to read his mind, he’s struggling so much with what he wants to say. “You’re very hard to get to know...and...I  _ know _ you want me...just as much as  _ I  _ want  _ you _ .” 

Louis gasps and stares up at Harry. His voice is dismissive, but still suggestive, as if it holds all the secrets to Louis’ world — all of his fantasies and hidden desires. “Wh—what?” Because, what? Where did that come from? And how does Harry know? Shit, shit, shit. And where does he get off?

Louis is feeling a mixture of guilt and anger, even though he’s having a hard time remembering why he’s angry, but...he’s also turned on. Harry is positively  _ glowing _ in front of him. He finds himself wanting to say something, anything that will ease some of the hurt and confusion in Harry’s words. But he can’t. It’s like he’s paralyzed and unable to make that move Harry is challenging him to make.

Firmly, with confident hands, Harry guides Louis up to standing with nothing more than his strong hands on his cheeks, fingertips tucking under each side of his jaw. Louis stands on shaky legs and comes almost eye to eye with the actor. “I said you want me, just as much as I want you.” His voice is slow, like sugar melting in tea, and it makes Louis shudder right down to his core.

Louis can’t help it as he glances down at Harry’s full, pink, glistening lips, and he says, “Y-you want me?”  There’s something about the admission that gets to Louis, makes him feel completely  _ floored _ , yet the tone in Harry’s voice is so controlling, domineering...it has Louis practically panting. 

Harry gives him a wicked smile and backs him up to the plate glass window behind them, darkness spreading through his eyes. He pushes a strong thigh between Louis’ legs and traps him between his hard, unyielding body and the fragile glass behind. “I do. Very much, Louis. But…” He noses up the side of Louis’ throat ––pulling a slow, pained whimper from deep inside Louis’ chest –– stopping at his ear, hot breath ghosting over the shell, “I don’t think you could handle me.”

And then he’s gone. Louis is left slumped up against the window, practically panting, dick twitching in his pants. He shivers and closes his eyes. He’s barely holding on to his dignity here and he’s not exactly sure what just happened. 

Harry’s at the door and he pauses, looking at Louis with intense eyes, hand on the handle. “When we fuck…” Louis holds his breath, noticing that Harry has said  _ when  _ and not  _ if _ .  “It’s going to mean something, Louis. It has to, for me. I’m not…” He glances back to the ocean before settling wide, unguarded eyes back on Louis. Louis can’t tear his gaze away, Harry looks captivating in this light with that openness spanning his features and it makes Louis want to lose himself in everything the other man is willing to give. “I’m not that person I used to be who didn’t want to feel, who didn’t want to be known, who just wanted to use and be used. I’m not interested in  _ just  _ fucking you Louis. I want more. Has to be more. So. Yeah.”

Louis opens his mouth, any reply just out of reach, his mind racing with what Harry just said to him. Where did this afternoon go? How did it get away from him?

“What? I —” Louis’ mouth is having a hard time moving, his lips frozen in place, heart beating wildly in his chest.  

Harry’s standing at the door, the interview all but forgotten, the conversation finally, finally edging on something real, something potent, and for the first time since Louis’ met him Harry looks bare, stricken. Despite the flashy clothes and the rock star hair and the blow job lips, and the openness Harry has shared over the last few days, Louis sees what very few people have ever seen: the real Harry Styles. And he’s  _ breathtaking _ .  

Harry finally adds, quietly. “I haven’t been with anyone since I moved here.” He takes a deep breath and Louis thinks the admission cost him more than Louis can measure. “When we’re finally together, and believe me, I want that...It has to mean something. And I don’t think you’re  ready for that Louis. And…” he’s almost whispering now, the ocean eclipsing every syllable. “‘M not sure I am either.”  

He steps inside and says, as a way of parting, “See you for dinner at 7:00.”  

For the first time since setting foot in Harry’s house, Louis doesn't argue. He  _ will  _ see Harry at 7:00. He’s looking forward to it. He’s scared as hell, but he’s looking forward to it.

 

***Harry***

“Um...Gloria. I don’t mean to sound like an arsehole, but...what do you mean you threw it out?”

Gloria looks like the cat who got the canary and she says it again, “I threw it out. It was off.”

Harry scratches his head and thinks. “But you just bought them?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Styles. They just smelled funny.”

Harry is at a loss now because he was planning on making that snapper —  _ counting _ on it to make an impression —red snapper with mango salsa, and it’s gone? Outside in the bin. He was sure Louis would have loved it. And now he’s left with nothing. And not enough time to come up with a plan B. The events of the afternoon are still heavy on his mind and he wants to make it up to Louis somehow, maybe get a chance to explain himself a little.

Gloria pats him on the arm, gathering up her things to leave for the day. “Guess you’ll have to go out for dinner.”  

Harry is surprised at how quickly she arrives at the conclusion. “Hm.  I guess…”

“Maybe that fish place down by the wharf?” She gives Harry a jaunty wink and now he  _ knows _ she planned this. “Reservation at 7:30. I called ahead. They closed the outdoor patio for you and your guest.”

“Gloria…” he starts slowly, “What are you up to?” The privacy will be nice but it was all a little too convenient.  

“Nothing Mr. Styles. Nothing at all. Have a good evening. See you tomorrow!” She breezes past him and he watches her go, suspicious. Something about the tiny Guatemalan woman reminds Harry of his mum. Meddlesome. Well-meaning, but meddlesome.  

“Call me Harry!” He shouts after her.

He huffs out a breath and heads toward his suite, already planning an outfit. Dinner out. With Louis. A date? He flushes at the thought, the memory of their conversation coming back to him.  He’s not sure what happened when the conversation turned, but he knows something is different and the fizzle of nerves he feels is a clear indication of the fact that he’s welcoming it, wants it. He couldn’t stop himself this afternoon, the urge to toy with Louis losing the battle to him just wanting to be honest. The problem is, it’s been a really long time since Harry’s been honest. He’s not sure he still knows how to be.  

Harry feels heat flood his groin. The memory of Louis looking up at him with confusion and lust has his pulse racing.

He wants him. Desperately.  

But there’s something holding him back. Maybe it’s the words of his therapist echoing in his brain. Maybe it’s the fact that Louis is  _ different _ — different from the kind of people Harry used to hook up with. But, probably, most likely, Harry thinks, it’s because it’s Harry who’s different. Maybe he’s grown up, maybe he’s learned a little bit about how the world works and that he’s worth more than just what’s on the surface. Being a part of the entertainment business has made Harry learn that the hard way. 

He wants this to be different. Because  _ Louis  _ is different and  _ Harry’s  _ different and his entire  _ world  _ is different. Everything is different now. And it feels sort of...amazing.

He feels a lightness in his step that he hasn’t felt in a long time. Despite the fact that he still very much wants to fuck Louis into next week — or have Louis fuck him into next week, he’s not picky, really — it also just feels nice to have someone to talk to. He and Louis get on,  _ well _ . So, it’s more than just physical attraction. He wants to get to know Louis more. Thinks he’s worth getting to know, worth maybe exploring  _ something  _ with. The trouble is, he’s not sure he trusts his own instincts about Louis. He’s been wrong so many times before. But Louis does seem genuinely interested in Harry’s life, not just because it’s his job. But what if he’s wrong? What if he can’t tell what Louis’ real motives are? It’s confusing and Harry feels like there are a lot of lines blurring and in danger of getting invariably crossed, not able to be traversed again.  

He’s going to have to settle  _ this  _ once and for all. A plan begins to formulate in his mind and he sets about getting ready.

 

***Louis***

The cold shower is not only refreshing, but necessary after the encounter Louis just had with Harry. Having him so close, with the warmth of his body against his, the breath from his lips sending all sorts of sensations throughout his body. Not only was Louis’ dick very much interested, but Louis was almost willing to just give into the enigma that is Harry Styles.

Having Harry leave him like that, full of want and need to fend for himself, well...Louis walked straight into the bathroom and turned on the cold water knowing it was the only way it was going to get him to calm down.  

He can’t stop replaying Harry’s words in his brain. The way Harry called Louis out on his bullshit and then went on to talk with so much confidence as if he already had Louis, just waiting to pounce on him whenever he felt like it. The more Louis thinks about it, the more uneasy it makes him feel. Harry has confided in him so much, and Louis hasn’t been as open, he’s more than aware of that. Louis doesn’t like feeling like he owes anyone anything, especially not someone in the  _ industry _ . He can feel his mind drifting to thoughts of his ex, Ryan, and the way Louis felt completely used and tossed aside like a dirty rag. Louis promised himself he would never let anyone use him that way again, and he intends to keep that promise, no matter how gorgeous that person may be.

Louis exits the shower with purpose, he doesn’t waste any time throwing his clothes on. He spends a few minutes on his hair, and when he finishes, he takes a good look at himself in the mirror. His skin is sun kissed, a tinge of rose red adorns the tip of his nose and a bit on his cheeks. In that moment, he makes the decision that he will not fall for Harry. Even though he feels like Harry has shared something of himself over the last few days that he doesn’t share with anyone else, Louis just needs to focus on what he’s here to do. He can’t just forget how far he’s come—how important it is for him to keep his eye on the prize, protecting himself above all else. He can’t let anyone get that close again. Ever. He needs to look at Harry as his employer and nothing else. He repeats that to himself as he takes a deep breath and walks out of his bedroom, prepared for whatever dinner has in store.

 

***Harry***

Harry waltzes into the dining room at 6:55 pm and is fairly certain he looks hotter than he’s ever looked. At least with clothes on. He’s wearing a sheer black shirt with red floral appliques, black leather pants and red chelsea boots that look like they could pass for Dorothy’s ruby red slippers. He took extra time shaving —  _ everywhere _ — and made sure to wash and condition his hair to perfection. He washed  _ everywhere _ , thoroughly. He flossed. He even changed his sheets.  

He’s ready.

He hopes Louis is too.  

He’d spent the better part of the last hour planning what he wants to say to Louis and how he wants to say it. He’s so scared — he’s been so scared — but there’s something about the other man and how he just seems to understand Harry that makes him want to put himself out there. The last few days have been amazing, and even though Harry isn’t completely sure he’s ready, he feels like there’s no one he’d rather take a chance on than Louis.   

He’s sitting at his dining room table, fiddling with his phone, when Louis enters and he is blown away by how Louis looks tonight. His hair is swept off his face, instead of feathery and mussed, and he’s wearing a soft looking grey v-neck sweater and painted on black skinnies. Polished brogues adorn his feet and the way his scruff has been trimmed and groomed makes Harry’s inner thighs ache with the urge to have his face rub him raw there. Even though there’s nothing remarkable about Louis’ outfit, he looks breathtaking to Harry.

It’s startling — the feelings Louis evokes in him, partly because they've known each other such a short time and partly because Louis makes him  _ horny _ . It’s stupid and maybe a little childish but  _ fuck _ , the boy is hot. Harry had been afraid that these new feelings would plunge him back into his past, into that sexual wasteland, but this time his eyes are wide open and there are no drugs, no alcohol, and Harry is pretty clear on what he wants. He wants not only sex with this man, but he wants a future with him.

And that, right there, is the difference.  

Harry feels pretty fucking self-actualized in this moment.

“Louis,” he breathes out, standing to greet him. He can’t help it but his eyes roam the other man’s body, hungry...greedy.  

Louis’ eyes are dark and his lips part as he watches Harry watching him. Harry sees his gaze sweep over his body and Harry is so thankful he decided to accept those Gucci leather trousers last spring. They cling to every single one of his curves making the long, lean planes of his body look endless. And he knows, for certain, that his cock is prominent and rather... _ accentuated _ .  

He made sure of that.  

He’s rewarded with a garbled greeting that he thinks might be hello, but he’s not entirely sure.  Louis has flushed a lovely pink and he’s shifting nervously from side to side. Harry wants to devour him.  

“Hope it’s ok with you but we’re going out tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Right. Um...Gloria. The fish was…” Harry feels like he’s coming up with excuses, and he feels irate at his housekeeper for putting him in this position — on purpose, he’s fairly certain. “Yeah.  We’re going out.”

“Ok,” Louis replies quietly, still looking like heaven on two legs and Harry really, really wants to smell him. Just sidle up next to him and see if he smells as good as Harry imagines he does. Like summer and aftershave and fresh ink on the printed page.  

“Yeah —” Harry catches himself migrating closer and stops himself, remembering his plan, not wanting to confuse things. “We should go, yeah.”

Louis looks at Harry with a question in his eyes but doesn’t say anything, just follows him out to the car. Harry opens his door — because he’d like to at least give the illusion that he’s a gentleman — and then slides into the front seat of his Range Rover. He clicks on the stereo and his last playlist comes to life,  _ Peaceful Easy Feeling _ filling the car.

“Hm. Eagles?” Louis looks and sounds amused as Harry looks over his shoulder, putting his hand on the back of the other seat, to back out of his spot. He turns in the circular driveway and heads down the long road to the front gates.

“Surprised?” Harry asks, punching the code at the gate to take them off the property. He feels butterflies in his stomach and he latches onto it. Being nervous is good. Keeps him alert.

“Nah, not really. Figured you were a classic rock guy.”  

Harry smirks to himself at how nonchalant Louis is trying to sound. But he  _ feels  _ it. Something has definitely changed between them. He likes it.  

Nicki Minaj comes on then, making Louis chuckle. “Keep surprising me, Styles,” he says quietly, shaking his head. Harry gives him a smile and thrums his fingers on the steering wheel, content with driving and listening to the sound of Louis humming along, looking distractedly out the window.

It’s quiet in the car, the ride short and the scenery along the coast gorgeous. The sun is starting its descent toward the horizon and Harry wants to see Louis’ face awash in purple and pink. He thinks Louis maybe belongs in front of beautiful scenery always and he can’t imagine him back in crowded, damp London. Summer suits him and California would look perfect on him.

_ Getting ahead of myself _ , Harry thinks, biting his lip to tamp down the excitement in his chest.

He wishes he knew how to do this — how to woo someone. He’s never had to. Never wanted to before. His hands are a little sweaty as he pulls into the ocean view restaurant. It’s a small, white tablecloth kind of place with really good wine and amazing scenery. Harry really likes it and Gloria knows it. She also knows it's the kind of place you take someone when you’re looking for a little romance. He’s not sure if he wants to kiss or fire Gloria. The outcome from tonight will probably help make that decision.

“This looks nice,” Louis murmurs in his soft raspy tone.  

Harry nods and opens his car door, the living scent of the sea wrapping him up in a humid embrace. “It is. It’s one of my favorites.”

Louis nudges him with his hip as he joins him at the front of the car, “Showing me all your favorites, Harry. I might get the wrong idea.” Louis clamps his mouth shut like he just spoke in tongues or something. Harry tilts his head and is about to ask him what’s wrong, but he stops himself. Something about the way Louis is holding himself, just a step out of reach, makes him stop.

“Maybe I’m trying to give you the  _ right _ idea,” Harry says quietly. Louis’ mouth opens and closes again and Harry wants to ask him what he’s thinking. But it feels too soon, feels too intimate. So he just smiles and nods toward the door. Louis follows him, the promise of the evening making Harry feel jittery,  _ excited _ . 

“Mr. Styles!” The hostess greets them with a wide grin and she ushers him and Louis toward the patio. The restaurant is empty, as promised by Gloria.  

Once they’re seated Louis takes a look around, a flush high on his cheeks. “Harry? Why are there no other customers?”

Harry runs a hand over the back of his neck and gives Louis a shy smile. “Um...Gloria called ahead. I’ve booked the entire place for the evening apparently.”

“Apparently?” Louis squeaks, and it shouldn’t be as cute as it is but it really is cute. Endearing.  Harry wants to keep him.  

“Yeah...it’s kind of hard getting out sometimes? Like, some of my fans — especially ones from  _ Infinity _ know I live around here and they, like, hang out at the places they know I go to? I don’t go out a whole lot but when I do I just like to...you know. Have some privacy.”

Louis slowly nods, like he understands, or is trying to. Harry adds, “Besides. I wanted to have you to myself tonight.”

Louis screws up his face a little but then relaxes and Harry thinks maybe he’s nervous too. The server comes up and Harry orders a bottle of wine for the table. Louis gives him a small smile but seems to think the menu is more interesting than anything else at the moment. 

Harry bites his lip and studies the menu as well, even though he knows what he’s going to get. He gets the same thing every time he comes here. He’s perplexed by Louis’ attitude and quietness. Closing the menu he looks up at Louis and says, “Everything ok?”

Louis’ head snaps up and Harry’s pretty sure he’s not making it up when he sees Louis look away quickly so as to avoid eye contact. “No, no. I’m just...um. Tired, I think.”

Harry nods and drums his fingers on the white tablecloth. “You sure?”

Louis sighs and closes his menu. “Look, Harry. We need to talk.”

Harry swallows and purses his lips. He’s not really experienced in the art of romance but he’s pretty sure  _ we need to talk _ isn’t always a good place to start. Louis takes a deep breath. “I think we missed a step.” His voice is light and tentative.  

“Okay…” Harry says slowly, wondering where this is going.

“Um...I’m essentially your employee, Harry. I think maybe we’re crossing a line with all of the…” Louis waves his hand between them before saying, “flirting.”

Harry’s stomach plummets and he thinks about what Louis just said. “My — my  _ employee _ ? Not really, Louis. I mean…” Harry thinks about his suspicions from earlier slithering their way into his brain.

Louis puts a slender hand up to stop him. “No, I am. And I’m not going to have sex with you, Harry. I’m not sure what kind of game you’re playing and why you’re messing with me, but I’m…” He passes a hand over his eyes and Harry can see the anguish there, the hesitancy and the rising alarm. “I’m not the person you want. And you're not the person for me.”

Harry feels the first flash of anger jolt under his skin. “How can you — you don’t know what I need or what I want!” His voice is loud and carries over the serene atmosphere. “Louis. I’m not sure what’s changed but I assure you this is not a game to me. I told you how I feel today. I told you —” 

“You told me you wanted to fuck me.”

“I did. But I —” 

“You told me you wanted to fuck me, full well knowing I’m only here for a week — really just a handful of days now. Why? What is it about me, Harry? Hm? You like the chase? Is that it? Then what? Once you catch me what happens? I’m not some kind of prize, Harry, some kind of reward for your...chastity or whatever.” Louis spits the words out and they stun Harry, the vehemence, the anger in them. 

What the fuck?

The server appears with the wine and sets about pouring it for Harry to taste and he bites out, “Leave it. Please. Just. Leave it.” They’re left alone again and Harry’s eyes are boring into the side of Louis’ face as Louis stares impassively out at the ocean. The sky has melted into golds and pearly pinks and Harry was right, it paints Louis in a beautiful light. He wants to photograph him in it, sing songs about it — kiss him in it, hold him close.  

“Louis. Please. Let me —” 

Louis exhales and stares at Harry with weary eyes. “What? What can you possibly say to convince me that you aren't after a quick fuck to get you through whatever existential crisis people like  _ you _ go through?”

“ _ What _ ? People like me? You barely know me.”

“I know enough.” Louis says, leveling Harry with an icy stare. And what the fuck is happening?  Harry wants to rewind, go backwards and find out exactly where things took this devastating turn.  

They stare at each other until, finally, the server timidly makes his way back over. Harry breaks their stare and looks up at the young man, who is clearly not excited about making the interruption. Harry stops him and says, “Just the check for the wine, please.”

The server looks like he wants to argue but something in the set of Harry’s mouth, the tension on his face, must convince him otherwise. “Yes, sir.”

Louis won’t look at him and for god’s sake, it’s breaking Harry’s heart, which...Harry wasn’t even sure existed until Louis walked into his life a few days ago. “Louis. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Louis’ eyes slide back over to his. Harry sees unshed tears in his eyes. “Babe. I don’t know — I don’t know what happened between this afternoon and now but I — I want you to know that this is real to me. This,” he shakes his head slightly, the sadness finally setting in, replacing the anger he felt moments ago, “This isn’t something I’m taking lightly. I like you. And yes, I want you — would fuck you in a heartbeat — but I really  _ like _ you and I...” He takes a deep breath, “I think we could make a go of it, see where this goes. But you’ve clearly made up your mind. And, I don’t know what’s going on, but until you like, talk to me about it, I can’t really help you. Can’t really help  _ us _ make this work.”

Harry is exhausted after his little speech and Louis is blinking back the tears now, his face a little blotchy but no less gorgeous. Harry feels like maybe all that forced therapy is doing some good because he knows that whatever is going on with Louis has little to do with him, and everything to do with Louis.   

 

***Louis***

The car ride is quiet on the way back to the house. Louis throws a tentative look towards Harry and he’s looking straight ahead at the road in front of them, both hands clasped tightly onto the wheel. Louis turns his gaze towards the window, watching the beautiful scenery in front of him. The darkness of the night has fallen upon them, and all that’s left now is the sparkle of the stars that glitter the horizon. It feels weird with so much silence between them, it feels unsettled in the pit of Louis’ stomach. Seeing Harry be this quiet makes him nervous. It’s such a vast contrast to the very vocal and flirty Harry he’s gotten used to these past few days. He doesn’t blame Harry though. Not one bit. Louis was a real prick back at the restaurant. Good, Louis thinks, maybe it will make this whole thing easier. On both of them.

Louis has too much on his mind and he doesn’t want to deal with any of it. He just wants to climb into bed and hide from the world. It sounds like a much easier alternative than actually having to think about anything or anyone. When they finally arrive, Louis stops himself from entering the house.

“Harry?” Harry had just unlocked the door and was about to make his way through the threshold, but when he hears Louis’ voice he visibly startles and slowly turns around to look back at him. He looks sad. So, so sad.  

“Yeah?” The tone of his voice is gentle, careful almost.

Louis looks down at his feet, his shoe scraping against a stray pebble on the ground. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, and I’d like to tell you.” Louis’ eyes come back up to meet Harry’s, “I just...I need time, okay?”  

Harry nods in understanding, “Take all the time you need, Lou. You know where to find me.”

Louis looks to his left, remembering the path they’d taken this morning — god, just this morning, it feels like a lifetime ago. “I’m gonna go for a walk if that’s okay. I’ll see you in the morning?”  

Harry’s lips curve into a sad sort of smile, “Of course. Have a good night, Louis.”

“Night, Harry.”

He watches Harry walk into the house before he turns around to walk. Louis walks, and thinks, and settles on the same spot they’d been in this morning, and he gazes at the night sky. He breathes in the fresh ocean scented air, and he lets himself get lost in his thoughts, and memories. He thinks about Harry’s words and the way he sounded so honest, and Louis would be lying if that didn’t scare the shit out of him. It was easy to keep Harry at arm’s length when he was being an arsehole. Doing the same while he was being refreshingly honest and open was definitely not so easy.

By the time Louis heads back to his bedroom, the house is deadly quiet, and it takes him mere seconds to fall into deep sleep.

_ Louis wakes up to a warm body wrapped around him, hot breath breathing against his ear. He smiles, already knowing Harry has been watching him sleep. _

_ “Are you the type of creep that watches people sleep?” Louis croaks, his voice still deep and gruff. _

_ Harry laughs against his ear, “Only the pretty boys like you,” he whispers. _

_ Louis smiles. He loves all the attention that Harry’s giving him, his hand roaming up and down Louis’ torso. Harry kisses him right beneath his ear, the feeling instantly makes Louis shiver. Harry’s hand stops at his bum, it feels hot and heavy before he circles his cheek gently. It’s making Louis’ cock twitch. _

_ “Tell me something, Louis,” Harry is still whispering, but he can’t see him. His voice is raspy, filled with desire, and it doesn’t do anything to stop Louis’ little predicament. _

_ “W-what is it?” Louis stutters, his voice needy, wanting Harry’s hand to make its way to his dick like yesterday. _

_ Harry kisses Louis’ shoulder, his hand hasn’t stopped caressing Louis’ bum, “Do you think you can come...just by,” Harry spanks Louis’ arse cheek, the sensation sends goosebumps throughout his body, making Louis moan, “doing this?” _

_ Harry doesn’t wait for Louis to respond, his hand comes down on his bum cheek again, this time with a bit more force, eliciting a whine out of Louis. “Do you want to find out?” Harry asks. _

_ Louis nods automatically, and that’s all the permission Harry needs. He pushes Louis onto his stomach. “Stay still, don’t move.” Harry’s voice is firm, leaving no room for argument, so Louis does. _

_ Harry runs his fingers from Louis’ neck, all the way down his spine, until both of his hands grab onto both of his cheeks, squeezing them. Suddenly, Louis feels the undeniable smack from Harry’s hand to his arse cheek. It’s quick. It’s hard. It feels so damn good. Better than Louis thinks it should. _

_ “Fuck!” Louis yells. _

_ “That’s it baby. Let me hear you.” Harry says before he does it again. With each spank that comes across Louis’ bum, the more turned on he seems to get. His erection is painful, and it’s rubbing against the mattress beneath him. And it’s taking almost everything in him not to move his hips against it, to relieve some of the pain. Louis doesn’t know how long Harry continues, all he knows is the pain feels so good, and he feels like he’s floating on a cloud. _

_ Before he knows it, Harry is opening him up. Louis doesn’t have much recollection of where he got the lube that he’s opening him up with. All he knows is that it feels amazing, and that he needs Harry inside of him. Right now. _

_ “I’ve got you, baby,” Harry says, as if he can hear Louis’ thoughts.   _

_ Finally, finally, Harry is slowly entering him. He’s got one hand on Louis’ back, holding him down, and the other is on his own dick as he’s guiding it inside of Louis. When Harry finally bottoms out it feels like everything finally makes sense. All the answers to the universe have been answered, life’s biggest battles have been won, all the i’s have been dotted and the t’s have been crossed and everything in the world has meaning. _

_ Harry lifts Louis’ hips to keep him from grinding on the mattress, which Louis would whine about but at the same time, he’s about to get fucked really well so he’s not going to complain. And then Harry does just that, he fucks him like there’s no tomorrow. Harry’s hips snap against Louis’ bum, and every time they meet, Louis feels like the air is being punched out of him –– in a good way. _

_ “Oh my god, Harry!” Louis screams, and Harry holds him down even harder, ass up, being pounded into with a relentless rhythm. Louis isn’t sure how much more he can take. _

_ “Don’t come yet. Only come when I tell you to, got it?” Harry growls. And it’s that voice again.  That commanding voice that leaves no room to be argued with. Louis has no problem with that. _

_ As Harry continues pounding into him, Louis concentrates on not coming until he’s allowed to.  But it’s getting harder, the more Harry hits him right into his sweet spot and what feels like bolts of electricity radiate throughout his entire body. _

_ “Okay, you can come, Louis. Come.” Harry commands.   _

Louis shoots up from his bed, his breath heavy, and he feels beads of sweat trailing down his forehead.

“Holy shit,” Louis whispers as he continues to catch his breath. That felt so fucking real, Louis has to look around the room to make sure Harry isn’t there. That was... _ different _ . Louis suddenly remembers the tone in Harry’s voice when he told Louis he wanted him, and the way he controlled him with just a few fingers on his jaw and that searing look in his eyes. Shit. He really liked that — seeing that sort of power in the other man’s actions, hearing it in his voice. Louis looks down at his crotch and of course he’s hard as fuck. That felt...amazing. Leave it to Louis’ bad luck that he’d wake up before he even gets to come in his dream. The first real fuck he’s had in ages, even though it was only a dream, and even then he’s being let down.

Christ. Spanking? Louis’ never given that sort of thing a second thought, but  _ god _ . It was so  _ hot _ . So... _ good _ . The more he thinks about his dream and the idea of someone –– Harry ––  just taking control, making Louis’ pleasure his sole focus...the more turned on he gets.

And that’s it. Louis doesn’t waste any time getting rid of his clothing, wanting nothing more than to get his orgasm. He closes his eyes, trying to imagine his dream, and fantasize about what it would be like, having Harry fuck him like that. Meanwhile, his right hand tightens around his cock, and he begins stroking it in long, steady strokes. His other hand trails up to his chest, and he plays with his nipples a bit, pinching them, pretending it’s Harry nibbling on them and having his way with him.  

His strokes get quicker, more desperate, and he’d be embarrassed by how fast he comes, but he’s too desperate to care. The orgasm rips through of him and it’s probably the hardest he’s come in a long time. Come paints his chest in messy white streaks, spraying up to his chin, making him feel boneless and completely depleted. Afterward, Louis lays in bed, languid and fucked out. He thinks that this is probably how he’d feel if he let Harry fuck him — and maybe even spank him like in his dream — only he’d be a bit more sore on his bum. Louis’ hole flutters at that thought.

After catching his breath, he finally forces himself to get out of bed to jump in the shower. While he waits for the water to warm up, he finds himself thinking back to the evening before. He knows, deep down, that his outburst at the restaurant was really because he’s afraid of letting Harry in. He wants, more than ever, to tell Harry about himself. He wants to open up to him. He needs to. Not only is Harry the focus of his every waking hour, but now he’s infiltrated his dreams as well. As he steps into the warm spray, he finds himself thinking about how much Harry’s opened up to him in the last couple of days. Louis realizes how hard that must have been for Harry to do and feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he realizes how much he’s refused to do the same in return. What would it feel like, he wonders, to tell Harry about his past? He doesn’t think he could handle it if Harry pitied him once he knew. But Harry seems so sincere. Maybe, just maybe, Louis can trust him.

As he closes his eyes and lets the warm water run over his face and down his body Louis begins to let himself imagine what it would be like to have someone to lean on, what it would be like to be able to count on someone besides himself, what it would be like to stop keeping people out and finally let someone in again. 

He thinks he’s actually ready to put himself on the line for Harry. And that’s something Louis  hasn’t done for anyone — not in a long, long time.   

 

***Harry***

Harry isn’t exactly sure why, but Louis won’t look at him directly when he enters the kitchen.  

Harry is busying himself with making crepes when Louis comes in, smelling freshly showered and looking well rested. His hair is still damp and Harry notices that he’s freshly shaven — and he looks positively edible. He’s so fucking gorgeous, is the thing, and it makes Harry feel reckless, makes him want to do things he never thought he’d do in a million years. 

Things like give up two years of celibacy to try and have a relationship based on being honest, communicating...talking about  _ feelings _ . Ugh.

Harry, himself, didn’t have much luck with sleep last night, tossing and turning until he got up at 5am for a strenuous workout and then swim in the pool. He kept playing the night over and over in his head along with the events of the past few days and he’s...he’s just so amazed at the turn his life has taken. Louis Tomlinson walking through his door seems to have turned his entire world upside down.  

He’s relieved that Louis is at least still here after his outburst at the restaurant, and that makes Harry’s heart stutter a little — thinking that at least he gets another chance to talk to Louis, to get to know him a little better. Even if they only have today, or only this moment, at least it’s another he has with Louis.

Louis goes straight to the cabinet and sets about making himself a cup of tea. It makes something warm light up in Harry’s stomach to see Louis at home in his kitchen. It feels very domestic, and sort of surreal.  

Wanting to escape the weight of his own thoughts, Harry turns and continues to spoon batter when he says, “Mornin’. Sleep well?” 

Louis pours hot water from the kettle into his mug, “I slept well... _ really _ well,” he says the last part as sort of an afterthought. Harry smiles at that, wondering what he means.

“Yeah? All that ocean air? Or the walk last night?” Harry inquires, carefully, hoping he’s not scaring Louis off as he turns to face the other man in his kitchen, spatula in his hand.

Louis’ face flushes, “No — n — nothing...slept well, is all” he says, suddenly flustered, his voice a bit strained. Harry, curious as to why he sounds like that, takes a good, long look at him. He’d like to think he’s a pretty good read on people — and with Louis spending all this time with him, Harry has gotten used to his “tells” — when he’s embarrassed, when he’s being serious, when he’s just kidding around...but right now he just looks...well, he looks completely  _ fucked out _ . Harry should know. He’s seen that look on a shit-ton of faces.

And, holy shit. Louis looks  _ freshly fucked _ .

“You — you... _ Louis _ ? Did you just…” Harry’s mouth is hanging open as he mimics a crude hand gesture, fingers closed in on his palm, loose, swishing back and forth at dick level.  

Louis almost drops the mug he’s steeping his tea in and his face contorts in disbelief. He coughs and hot tea jostles over the side of the cup and onto the pristine floor. Harry just grins, watching Louis’ face turn crimson.  

“Harry! What? No — I — !” Louis sputters, blushing, still gripping his tea.  

“‘S ok. Really. I’m...honored you would feel comfortable enough to wank in my house.” Harry knows he’s being a complete arse right now, but he kind of likes teasing Louis, likes the way his golden skin is turning a pretty shade of petal pink.

“Shut up Harry,” Louis warns, no real heat behind his words as he refuses to look at him.  

Harry plates the crepes alongside the berries he rinsed and patted dry earlier. “What? This is — this is good. We need to talk, right? I mean. Why not talk about one of the most human things in the world?” He watches as Louis shakes his head, slow smile spreading over his pinked cheeks. “I mean...it’s only natural, right?”

“You know what, Harry…” Louis begins, his voice sounds menacing, but playful, but Harry doesn’t get to hear what he was going to say. Gloria breezes into the kitchen just then, grocery bags in hand, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

“Mr. Styles! Mr. Tomlinson! You’re up early!”  

“It’s Harry!”

“Louis! Please!”

Gloria just smiles beatifically, ignoring them both, and says, “Can I help with that?” She gestures toward the plates of food, her small hand looking strangely similar to Harry’s just a moment before. Louis chokes on his tea and scurries out of the room, heading toward the veranda, still shaking his head as he goes.  

Harry fights back hysterical laughter as he rolls his eyes dramatically. “No, thanks, love. You’ve — you’ve done enough.” With that, he kisses her cheek, making the tiny woman giggle and he hopes she gets it — hopes she knows how grateful he is for her setting up the dinner last night, even though the night didn’t turn out exactly how he had planned.  

 

***

Breakfast is light and comfortable, Harry chattering about seagulls and the pelicans and other marine loving birds. He’s filling up the silence, he knows this, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He’s afraid of what Louis is going to say, doesn’t want the sting of rejection just yet. He can tell by the slump in Louis’ shoulders and the pensive line dissecting his brow. It’s only a matter of time.

“Harry.”

Fuck.

He looks at Louis, sees the ocean reflected in his eyes, and just wants to stop time. He feels awash in sadness, knowing how far he’s come, yet feeling like it's all been in vain — the one man who comes along that makes him want to risk it all doesn’t want him and that’s...that’s  _ devastating _ . He looks away, avoiding Louis’ eyes, avoiding  _ Louis _ .

“Harry. Please look at me.” Louis’ voice has a light rasp to it that makes Harry think of hot sand under his feet or the warm sun settling in his bones.  

He looks up.

Louis is smiling at him, serene. Peaceful.  

“I owe you an explanation.”

Harry nods. Braces himself.

“I like you Harry. A lot.”

Harry feels the big old but coming.  

“And I really want to make a go of it — of  _ us _ . But…”

Fucking hell. There it is.

“You need to know a few things and...I just. We need to talk.”

Harry nods slowly and pushes off of his chair. He rounds the table and holds his hand out for Louis who takes it, without hesitation. Their fingers slot together like they’ve done this a million times and they haven’t — haven’t really touched much at all yet. But here, under the bright mid-morning sun with the California sky sparkling blue like it’s fucking washing the world in shades of the ocean, their hands touch and Harry feels  _ grounded _ —he feels safe and like maybe he’s stepping forward, instead of backward. And that means everything.  

They walk hand in hand, silently, to the edge of the pool, crystal water catching sunlight like a pirate’s treasure. Harry pulls Louis down so they can sit at the edge and drop their feet into the water. This way, they can look out over the landscape, to the ocean beyond, and not have to look at each other. Harry thinks maybe it will be easier that way, already trying to figure out how he’s going to get over Louis Tomlinson.

“So. I was in a relationship,” Louis begins, voice soft and close and god...Harry wants to sink into the warm velvet of it. He’s quiet for a few moments before he continues, “I was so in love, Harry. Thought that he was  _ it _ for me.”

Harry hears the break in Louis’ voice and he has to look at him.  _ Has _ to.  

When his eyes find Louis’, he gets caught there, caught up in the pain and the beauty and the clarity — the brutal honesty he finds there. “Go on. Please.” 

Louis swallows and his eyes slide away. Harry can breathe again. “I was young, had just moved to London. Was in a small theater company, acting a little, doing stage production...basically everything and anything to make ends meet, to allow me the chance to do something that I loved. I really saw myself in theater, you know?”

Harry closes his eyes, imagines Louis’ several years younger, bright and vivacious, brimming with life — starting his life. “You’d be good at it,” he whispers. A hummingbird flits by, zooming to the feeder, its small frail body fast and sure, stronger than it looks.  

“Thank you for that, but, that’s not really the point of this story, Harry.” Louis chuckles a little and smooths his hands over his bare legs, white shorts bright against his tan thighs. So tan already, and he’d only been here for a few days. “Right. So, then...then I met Ryan.”

The name has weight to it — a significance. Harry doesn’t ask, he just waits.

A few minutes go by and Louis finally speaks. “Ryan was older, smart. So incredibly talented, handsome...he was like a shooting star, you know? Not in the cheesy sense...like honest to god real talent, the real deal. And he... _ god _ . He liked  _ me _ . He chose  _ me _ . Here I was this gawky kid from the boonies and this guy, who happened to be incredible — so, so incredible — liked  _ me _ .”

Harry watches Louis’ face as he talks and he wants to tell him to shut up, wants to scream at him that of course this dufus Ryan liked him. Who wouldn’t? He was the real shooting star here, lightning in a bottle, he is. Louis Tomlinson was the only person Harry had ever known to call him out on his bullshit, to resist him, to make him think about the kind of man he wanted to be.  

Harry had a feeling that Louis Tomlinson could be the kind of man to help Harry  _ be _ the kind of man he was meant to be.

“We dated for almost a year. It was good, Harry. So, so good. I thought we’d get married, you know,” he says absently, like it was common knowledge, or common practice for someone to fall like that for someone else. Harry kind of knows, though, he  _ does _ . He felt like that about Zac. Felt like that about Ben — really thought he and Ben were special. But they weren’t. So, yeah. He knew what Louis was talking about.  

Louis laughs, a bitter sound, cut short by the splash of his legs in the water. Harry watches the droplets float through the air against the backdrop of the evergreen bushes on the other side of the garden.  

“I was writing a screenplay. It had started out as a class project and it just kinda….grew, you know? Became a monster, if I’m honest. It was amazing. It was...it was kind of my ticket, you know? I  _ knew _ it was good.” Louis’ voice had dropped, gotten even more serious. “Ryan, um...Ryan broke up with me on a Tuesday night. I remember it was Tuesday because I had an evening class and I was dead tired but I wanted to get home, wanted to order takeaway and watch our Tuesday night shows and just be with my boyfriend. When I got home, Ryan wasn’t there. But he had left a note. Told me he was over us. Told me that he’d met someone else.  Told me that he’d always cherish our time together — what a load of bullshit — he wrote... _ god _ .  He wrote ‘ _ thanks, kid, for everything’ _ . Who  _ does _ that?”

“Oh, Lou. Jesus. I’m so sorry.” Harry  _ feels  _ the heartbreak emanating off of Louis.  

Louis’ eyes are filled with tears, the sight making Harry’s own eyes water up and sting. Shit.  This Ryan guy was a bastard. Harry feels his fists ball up at the thought of what he’d do to him for hurting Louis like this. Louis continues, voice calm and slow, “I stayed in bed for a week.  A whole week. And, finally, when my mum and sister came to drag me out I just. I just decided I’d never get into that kind of situation again.”

“Situation?” Harry asks slowly.

“A situation where someone could hurt me.” Louis says quietly, so quiet, Harry has to strain to hear him.  

“Oh Louis…”

Louis puts a hand up to stop him. “That’s not even the worst of it.”

Harry watches as Louis drags in a deep breath, holds it and then exhales. “Ryan stole my screenplay.”

Harry replays the words in his head. “ _ What _ ?”

“My screenplay. Ryan stole it. And...um. It was made into a movie.  _ Tigris _ ? Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Shit…” Harry  _ had _ heard of it. It was big on the indie movie festival scene. Harry had even gone to see it. Well, he didn’t really  _ see _ it. He was busy blowing some guy in the back row of a theater...but still. It had done well.  

“Yeah. I was so heartbroken, so lost I just...I gave up. Everything I’d worked for, every plan I had for what I wanted to do with my life, I just gave it all up because it all felt so meaningless. I’d been  _ so _ wrong about something I’d been so sure about –– I felt like I couldn’t trust my own instincts about anything, not relationships, not my career, not even the dreams I’d had of my future. I moved back home with my mum for a year and then, when I was finally able to get up in the morning and not want to crawl back under the covers I got a writing job for a small publishing company. Started editing and then I got assigned to ghostwriting.”  

Harry wants to hold him. Wants to scoop him up in his arms and apologize for all the assholes in the world. Fuck. He wants to wrap him in bubble wrap and never let him out of his sight. Louis looks at him then, and it’s like the whole world tilts sideways. “Ghostwriting was kind of perfect. I was writing, but I wasn’t actually sticking my neck out, you know? No one knew I’d written any of it, so if people hated it, I wasn’t the one who got the criticism, I wasn’t the one who got hurt. I could hide behind someone else’s name. Of course, it meant I also never got the glory either, but I kind of felt like I wasn’t worth any glory. What Ryan had done had just made me bury that part of me that felt I deserved acclaim, that I deserved love. I never looked back, Harry. I didn’t have to. I’d made a decision that I wasn’t going to open myself up ever again. But that was before.”

Harry bites his lip and holds his breath. “Before?”

“Before you.”

The words hang in the air between them and Harry feels the warm ocean breeze on his face and he can hear the waves below and he wants to reach out and touch the small, stunning man next to him, but he doesn’t. He has to give Louis space, he reminds himself. Louis is driving this car, it’s all him.  

Whether Harry likes it or not.

“Me?” He asks, staring deep into Louis’ eyes. At this distance he can see green melting into the blue hue and he wants to swim in them.

“You, Harry. I...I didn’t want to  _ like _ you. Fuck. You were such a dick that first day.” They both laugh at that. It’s true, even Harry can admit that. Old habits. What can he say? “But...as you let down your guard I just...I’m falling for you and I…”

“You?” Harry feels them drifting closer, can see the tiny freckles on Louis’ nose, can smell peppermint and strawberries on his breath, can see the soft pink of his tongue.  

“I…” Without another word their lips brush together, softly, tentatively. It’s nothing, really, barely a kiss, more just skin on skin, feather light and so, so tender. But  _ fucking hell _ , it’s everything. It means more than any kiss that came before it and Harry feels, literally  _ feels _ , the way Louis melts into him, the way he melts into Louis. And  _ Christ _ . Is it always like this? Harry wouldn’t know — it feels, in some ways, like his very first kiss.

Louis pulls away. He pulls away and closes his eyes as Harry pushes their foreheads together.  “We...” Louis whispers, “I can’t. We... _ Harry _ . We can’t do this.”  

Before Harry can even open his eyes and focus again, mind reeling, trying to catch up to Louis and his words, Louis is gone.  

 

***Louis***

Louis wasn’t supposed to kiss him, but fuck if that wasn’t one of the best kisses he’s ever experienced. He can still feel the soft imprint of Harry’s lips on his, and Louis feels like he’s suffocating. Like he’s running out of air because he’s running as fast as he can, away from Harry back to his room. He was supposed to tell Harry the truth, tell him why they can’t be together and Harry was supposed to try to understand and they’d finish the last bits of the autobiography before Louis finally got to go back to London and his life before ever meeting Harry.

Instead, Louis is sprinting to his room, his throat burning with the emotions he’s trying so hard to push back. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was only here to do his job, and it all just turned upside down for Louis. He never thought that underneath that arrogant asshole exterior he’d find such a kind and caring person, let alone start to have feelings for him. He shoves the door to his bedroom open and frantically grabs his suitcase, piling his things into it without bothering to fold them.  

“Lou?” Louis squeezes his eyes shut at the sound of Harry’s broken voice.  

“Harry please, just…”  He opens his eyes and sees Harry in the doorway, a lone tear trailing down his cheek, his eyes pleading. “I need to go.”

“Why?”

Louis takes a deep breath. He needs all the courage he can get to be able to get through this without breaking down. He looks at Harry with stern eyes, “Because I can’t be here...with you. We can’t...it would never work between us. You have your life settled here and I’m living my life in London, there’s no way it would work if we live on two different continents. It’s better if I just leave now, before things get worse. Just rip off the bandaid now, no need to prolong the inevitable.”

“You’re not even willing to try? Don’t I have a say in this?” Harry is closer now, but still keeping a respectful distance from Louis and he’s giving him an incredulous look. “I can’t believe you’re just going to give up like that.”

And well, that kind of stings a little. However, Louis pushes through it and continues to gather his things.

“I’m sorry, Haz.”

Louis isn’t sure where that nickname came from, it came out of his lips before he could even think about it. 

Harry turns to walk away but after taking a couple of steps he halts and turns back around. A look of determination floods his features and he approaches Louis toe to toe, “No, you know what? I’m tired of holding back to spare your feelings Louis. You said that I made you want to open yourself up again, but here you are running away instead of facing your fears. Can’t you see that you’re not the only one putting yourself out there? I’m scared shitless, but I’m willing to put in the work because to me you’re worth it.”

Louis opens his mouth to say something,  _ anything _ , but nothing comes out. He wants to say so much. Like how Harry lights up any room he walks into, and how his laugh always puts Louis in a better mood. And how Harry looks beautiful in anything he wears, and how Louis could just listen to him talk about nonsense for hours, letting the slow timbre of his voice lull him to sleep. How Harry has changed Louis’ life in just a matter of days, because he’s the most generous and loving person despite all the hurt he’s been through. Before he is able articulate any of that, Harry shakes his head and turns to walk away without another word, closing the door behind him. Louis considers going after him for a moment, before he decides that it might be for the best to just let Harry go. He tries to convince himself he’s making the right decision for the both of them.

He is, isn’t he? For god’s sake it’s only been a few days and he’s already talking to Harry about their future. There’s no way someone finds the person they’re meant to be with in such a short amount of time. Right?

Louis grunts in frustration as he continues packing his things. He picks up his hoodie off the floor and something drops from it and falls under the bed. Annoyed, Louis gets on his knees and leans over to reach and see what it was. His fingers touch something hard, and he grabs it and brings it to view. It’s a seashell he’d picked up on his way back from his and Harry’s early sunrise walk. It’s small, no bigger than a nickel and it swirls like an iced gem. And then it hits him like a freight train. All the memories from the last few days, from the very first moment he laid eyes on Harry, to the last words he just exchanged with him. They play in his mind like a movie reel, and Louis finds himself biting on his bottom lip to keep himself from bursting into tears.

He stands to his feet in one swift motion, the suitcase full of his stuff completely forgotten and the seashell clutched to his palm as he races out of the door. He needs to find Harry before it’s too late.

 

***Harry***

Shit. He pushed too far and now Louis is leaving. What the fuck? Harry balls up his fists and rubs at his eyes. He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to — fuck. He’s totally crying.  

Fucking Louis Tomlinson. Why did Harry ever think that this —  _ they  _ — could work? They’re both fucked up and clearly too broken to even  _ think  _ they could work together. Harry feels so desolate, so empty. He wants to scream. He just... _ fuck _ . He just wants Louis.  

He thinks over the events of the past week, all of the moments that he might have just pushed too far, screwing everything up. The hike up in the mountains. The sunrise over the ocean.  Those were nice. But then he was a royal dick over the week too. Thinking about Louis as another conquest. Thinking about Louis as just another fuck in a long string of…

Harry is so, so fucked.  

He’s just about to put on his work out clothes when he hears an urgent knock at the door. His heartbeat picks up and he feels queasy. The only person here in the house with him is Louis.  

He walks to the door rather quickly and flings it open only to find Louis standing there, rumpled, flushed and frantic.  

“I —” 

He’s so beautiful, standing there in the waning light, mouth open, hands clenched into fists at his side. Harry’s heart breaks all over again with how much he  _ wants _ .  

“Louis.” The words tumble out before Harry can even think. “This — us? This is real. And if you can’t see that.  _ Fuck _ .  I — I don’t even know how to tell you —” Harry starts, frustration seeping from his voice and thrumming through his body and then Louis is colliding with him, their bodies crashing like salted waves to the shore and finally,  _ finally _ , Harry can  _ feel  _ the smaller man in his arms, he smells like the forest and fresh grass and like Harry’s washing powder from the sheets he’s been sleeping on and he  _ feels  _ so good — feels like he belongs here. Feels like he belongs in Harry’s arms, in Harry’s embrace. In Harry’s  _ life _ .

“ _ Louis _ —” 

Louis’ hands are frantic as they hug, and his lips are pressed to Harry’s neck, making him shiver, when he says, “Take me to bed, Harry.  _ Please _ .” The words are plaintive and his eyes are pleading and he looks up from the circle of Harry’s arms and Harry sees desire in his gaze. It makes his heart climb up his throat and he’s about to tell Louis how much he means to him, what he’s willing to give him. Give him anything. It’s all so much and yet...it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

Instead, Harry takes Louis to bed.

They topple onto the mattress and Louis pulls his shirt off while falling on top of Harry and everything's a blur, tears in Harry’s eyes making everything foggy and hazy. Louis hands are in his hair and Harry’s hands are sliding down the heavenly bare skin of Louis’ back and it feels like satin, feels like flower petals — he’s so  _ soft _ .  

Louis is shaking and Harry pulls his face up from where it’s nuzzled into his neck and whispers, “You ok, baby?”

Louis whines and focuses and murmurs, “Yes...just...need…”

“Tell me, Lou. Tell me what you need.”

“ _ You _ .” 

The word lingers between their mouths like the most sacred of whispers. Harry blinks and feels frozen. Louis wants him.  _ Louis  _ wants  _ him _ .  

This time when their lips come together it’s not soft, not tentative at all. It’s hot and messy and demanding from the first touch. Louis moans against Harry’s mouth and Harry  _ knows  _ how to do this, he does, he knows how to kiss, how to  _ fuck  _ — but it’s been so long. And it’s never been with someone like this. Someone who he thinks  _ gets  _ him better than anyone ever has. Someone who makes him better than he’s ever been. It’s never been this important. Harry forgets how to breathe, forgets what to do.

Luckily, Louis seems to remember.  

“Kiss me, Harry,” he whispers, mouth sliding over Harry’s, lips fitting together like halves of one whole.  

Harry holds him still by cupping both cheeks, Louis’ thigh slipping between his own, and he kisses him.  

It’s stupid, it really is. But Harry sees fucking fireworks in his head. He does — explosions of red and blue and violet and it’s just... _ right _ . Kissing Louis feels like something he should have been doing a long time ago, like something he was meant to do. Louis tastes earthy and green tinged with a sweetness that Harry’s never tasted before. He lets his tongue roam Louis’ mouth freely, exploring, reveling in the little sounds that come from Louis’ throat. He hums and whines a little and then he starts rocking his hips and it’s like something snaps.  

Harry flips them quickly and brackets Louis with his arms on either side of his head, forearms alongside his face, knees on either side of his hips. “Fuck, Lou…”

Louis cradles Harry’s face in shaking hands. “I know,  _ god _ , I know.”

They look into each other’s eyes and Harry thinks about the moment he first saw Louis Tomlinson — just a few days ago — silhouetted by the bright light shining off the ocean in his living room and the light from all the heavens and earth below couldn’t compare to the light that seems to be harnessed by Louis. Louis is ethereal and he  _ wants _ Harry. Louis is here, still here — and it makes his head spin. It feels like a lifetime ago that he first laid eyes on the man underneath him. How someone could come to mean so much to him in such a short amount of time is unfathomable.  

Harry brings their mouths together and they kiss and kiss until their mouths are sore and wet and Harry is so hard in his jeans he can hardly breathe. Louis slides their lips together again and  _ Christ _ , it’s so good. Louis’ teeth are sharp and clever as his bites down on the soft give of Harry’s bottom lip and he really, really wants more.

“Louis, I —” he rolls his hips down, delighting in the moan it drives from Louis’ chest. Louis claws at his shirt until he pulls it over his head and throws it to the side. The skin of their torsos slides together and it’s hot and perfect and smooth and it makes Harry’s brain short circuit and his cock is throbbing in his pants.  

Louis grabs his hair and yanks him back down and Harry thinks yes, yes, this is a good idea.  _ Fantastic _ , even. Kissing Louis is quickly becoming the only idea in his head — he’s struck dumb by it. Their cocks are grinding up against one another inside their pants and Louis finally wraps his legs around Harry’s midsection, pulling them even closer. Harry groans and drops his mouth to Louis’ collarbones. He licks over the dips and ridges, remembering how he’s wanted to do this since day one. Louis is panting in his ear and he whines, “Fuck,  _ Harry _ .” 

Everything is so hot and sticky. Harry’s groin is tightening and he’s going to come. Good god, he’s going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager in the backseat of a car and he doesn’t give two fucks.  

Grinding down harder and faster, he finds a dirty rhythm and sucks mark after mark on Louis’ chest, his neck and over the scrolled lettering of the tattoo along his collarbones.  

“God, Harry. Want this. Want you…” Louis is babbling and writhing underneath him and moaning so loud, so  _ hot  _ in his ear — Harry just needs him to…

“Fucking be still, Louis,” Harry grits out, sliding his hands between the mattress and Louis’ bucking body so he can grip his luscious arse cheeks and squeeze them tight. He pulls Louis up and into the cradle of his hips so that his cock is grinding down exactly where Louis’ hole is.  

It’s the idea that, beneath the layers of clothing, Louis’ arse is  _ there _ , with his hole that is probably just as pretty as the rest of him quivering and twitching and Harry knows Louis would feel so  _ good _ , full of his cock, chest flushed and heaving. Harry needs it — needs him. So, it’s really just the idea of Louis’ hole underneath him right where Harry’s dick is grinding down that does it for him. He holds Louis still and, using the strength of his own arse and thighs, he fucks his hips down, down, down until finally,  _ god-fucking-finally _ , he’s coming in his pants, shouting out and arching his back while he just lets go. 

He hears Louis lets out a broken moan as he palms himself in his own jeans and then Harry feels him finally stops squirming, his body completely rigid and taut as he chokes out, “Ah!  _ Harry _ !”  

They stay completely still for a moment, shivering and twitching against each other, all of Harry’s weight on Louis’ smaller frame.  

“H —  _ Harry _ . You — you weigh a fucking  _ ton _ .”

Harry laughs, his body loose and completely pliant, so much so that it takes him a few moments to finally move. He rolls off Louis, wincing at the sticky mess in his pants. Louis exhales loudly, his hand landing on Harry’s hipbone, other hand fanned out over his cooling chest. Harry turns his head and whispers, “Louis?”

Louis turns his head so that they are staring right into each other’s eyes. “Hm?”

“Can we, like — do that again? Without pants. Sometime soon?”

Louis giggles, squeezing Harry’s hip. “Was hopin’ you’d say that.”

 

***Louis***

They both undress and clean up the sticky mess they made, kissing and touching each other like lovestruck teenagers, but Louis wouldn’t trade it for anything else. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of him and he feels lighter, like a feather floating in the air. He can’t stop grinning as he and Harry finish wiping off and throw on some clean underwear.  

Back in bed, they both lay side by side facing each other. Harry’s dimples are as deep as he’s ever seen them, the happiness is radiating off of him like a sunbeam, illuminating his face so beautifully. Louis pokes a finger into one of the dents on Harry’s cheek, making the other man giggle breathily. They’re both living in this wonderful moment, neither of them wanting to break or ruin it with anything else. But Louis knows there’s a lot of things still up in the air, and the faster they address them, the sooner they’ll be on their way to doing whatever it is they decide to do. Louis knows what he wants. He wants Harry, he wants to be with him for as long as he’ll have him but he’s not about to make assumptions and make the decision for the both of them. No, he wants to talk it out with Harry and decide their next steps — no matter how scary or difficult it may be — together.

A few stray curls fall in front of Harry’s face and Louis helps tuck them behind his ear. His hand lingers there for a few moments, not ready to stop touching Harry just yet. He takes a deep breath, “So...I think there’s some things we should probably talk about. Don’t you think?”

Harry closes his eyes as soon as Louis starts talking, smiling contently. He opens his eyes and licks his lips, “Yeah, I think so.” He brings both of his hands and tucks them under his cheek like a pillow, and he looks so...vulnerable and open, Louis feels almost overwhelmed with it.  

“Okay, so...I changed my mind,” Louis begins, and Harry’s face falls, “No, no, not like that. I mean..I want to try. This thing between us,” he gestures to the both of them, “I want to see where it goes, I want to do what it takes to make it work. If you’ll still have me.” Louis smiles tentatively, his eyes boring into Harry’s. Harry’s eyes brighten with every word that spills out of Louis’ lips.  

“Yeah?” Harry sounds so hopeful, it makes the butterflies inside of Louis’ tummy flutter uncontrollably.

“Yes. Will you still have me?”

Harry pulls Louis into him, their bodies touching from limb to limb, so warm and soft against each other. His lips brush Louis’ into a soft and tender kiss, and when Harry pulls away, he has the cheesiest grin on his face. “Of course, baby.” They kiss and kiss again until they eventually let sleep overtake their exhausted bodies.

Louis wakes up to the bed dipping next to him. He blinks his eyes open and finds a sleep rumpled Harry setting a tray of food down on the bed. Louis stretches out, yawning before sitting up with his back against the headboard.

“What’s all this?”

Harry smiles, “I just fixed us up something for dinner. Figured we could finish up the last few episodes of Sense 8 while we eat in bed?”

Louis returns the smile, he reaches over to grab a piece of cheese from one of the plates and pops it into his mouth. “Mmm..sounds perfect.”

And that’s how they spend their evening, cuddled in Harry’s bed watching mindless television and feeding each other food. Louis wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

***Harry***

Harry wakes up to sunlight streaming in his room, a warm, contented feeling in his bones and a dick rubbing up against his arse.

It’s kinda perfect.  

As he shakes the last remnants of sleep off, he arches his back into the body behind him, eliciting a low, dragged out moan from Louis. “Baby...you’re... _ up _ early.”  

Louis stills, but only for a second, before he slaps at Harry’s hip. “‘S too early for your puns, Harry.” His voice is adorably croaky and Harry has to see his morning face. Louis is rolling his hips slowly, gently, into his backside and Harry can feel the way his muscles are contracting against his back and it feels  _ good  _ — almost too good — but he needs to  _ see  _ him. He thinks he’s gone too long without seeing Louis Tomlinson first thing in the morning. His whole life, actually.

He turns slowly in Louis’ arms, Louis whining at the loss of arse on dick contact, and Harry finds blurry blue eyes and soft, pink, stubbled skin. “You’re —  _ god _ . You’re  _ beautiful  _ Louis.”

Louis rolls his eyes and slides one of his sleep warm hands up the side of Harry’s torso, making Harry shiver under his touch despite the confined warmth of the comforter over them. His hand moves to cup his jaw, thumb moving over the swell of his bottom lip and he whispers, “ _ You _ , Harry.  _ You’re _ beautiful…” He presses his lips softly to Harry’s, just the smallest of touches but it feels like an army of butterflies take off inside Harry’s stomach — he’s giddy with excitement, nerves. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Louis says, against his lips and Harry wants to cry with how perfect it is, how perfect he thinks his life can be with Louis by his side.

He really hopes he’s not taking this too fast.

Louis leans back a little, hand still on Harry’s cheek. “So...we’re really doing this, yeah?”

It takes Harry a minute to process the words, lost in the way Louis smells in the morning — like Harry’s bed, Harry’s  _ things _ , but still like Louis, like pine trees and fresh air and just... _ good _ —  the soft lines on his cheek from the pillow and the way he can just  _ feel  _ Louis’ cock against him, a barely there notion but still burning into Harry’s thigh. “Hm? This?” He looks at Louis in mild confusion before it clicks. “Oh! You mean us? Like — this as in us?”

“Sex makes you stupid, I think.” Is all Louis says, but there’s a smile behind the words and a little dancing light in his eyes that makes Harry feel pitifully trapped in his gaze — his touch, his everything.

“Sex makes  _ you _ a smart ass,” Harry replies, thinking that’s about as witty as he’s going to get with Louis in his bed. “ _ Yes _ .” He plants a kiss on Louis’ slightly parted lips, slotting them together so he can pull on Louis’ bottom lip a little with his own. “Yes. We are doing this. We are  _ so  _ doing this.” He punctuates the sentence with a slow forward grind of his hips. Louis’ eyelids flutter and he breathes out a small “ _ oh _ ” before he comes back to himself.

Louis giggles and rolls over on top of Harry so that their hips are lined up and they can stare into each other’s eyes. “Harry. There’s nothing more I’d rather do than you, but...I’m serious. I mean…” Harry grips Louis’ hips and revels in the way the flesh curves under his fingers and he wants to dig in further, maybe leave a fingerprint or two behind — just to make sure that Louis knows he wants him, so, so much. “Last night wasn’t a dream, was it?”

Harry stops moving his hands towards Louis’ undeniably irresistible bum cheeks and looks at him, noting the tremor of fear he sees Louis’ eyes. “It wasn’t a dream, Lou.” He says seriously, sliding his hands up Louis’ bare back so they can tangle in his sleep mussed hair.  

Louis looks down at him with absolute wonder in his eyes and it makes Harry falter for a moment — just knowing that this other person is putting his faith in him, is trusting him with his heart, and he’s willing to do the same...it’s a lot. “We’ll just...take it slow, right? We both know what we want, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out over his mouth and Harry can’t resist kissing him. “You, Harry. Want you…” he says, breaking their kiss to look deep into his eyes again.  

Harry agrees. Fucking hell, he does and he wants to tell everyone. But he settles for telling Louis instead. “I want you, Louis. So much. I just...I know we’re scared but we... _ this _ is worth it.  So worth it.”  

Louis doesn’t answer, just surges up and kisses Harry over and over, soft little pecks to the cheeks, mouth, his brow...Louis is giggling and Harry feels like he could take flight, he’s so happy and free. He didn’t realize how heavy and weighed down he’d been until Louis walked into his house. And now...it’s like feeling the sun shine on your face after too long without. It’s  _ remarkable _ .

Harry finally lets his hands wander to exactly where he wants them. He grips each of Louis’ arse cheeks in his hands and pulls him apart while rolling his hips up and into Louis’ erection. Louis gasps and drops his forehead to Harry’s shoulder. Harry nudges him so that he can kiss him properly, rolling his tongue into his mouth as they find a quick, dirty rhythm. There’s still a sweetness in the air though, and it clings to Harry’s skin and makes him want to  _ say  _ things,  _ do  _ things he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to do before.  

The feeling of sleep and the taste of morning leaves soon enough and it’s replaced by something more frantic, more desperate. Some part of Harry feels like he has to make up for lost time, while another, much more rational part is telling him it’s ok.  _ You’ve got time. Forever, if you want it. _

“Louis,” Harry pulls away for air, panting and surprising himself at the desperation in his voice.  “Want you to...need you to…” Louis kisses down his neck, tiny wet kisses and scrapes of teeth that make him squirm. He’s hard underneath Louis and god, Harry wants him so badly. “Want you to fuck me.” He breathes out, a flash of embarrassment roiling through him at how needy he sounds.  

Louis pushes himself up, bracketing Harry’s face with his hands, a genuine look of surprise on his face. “Yeah? You do?”

Harry nods his head quickly. He’s positive. “Yeah. I really do,” he sighs, scratching his nails up and down the expanse of Louis’ strong back. “I...it’s been a long time…” he starts.

Louis quiets him with a soft, tender kiss. “I know. Me too. Feels…” he swallows thickly, kissing along the hinge of Harry’s jaw. Harry shivers, wondering how he could feel so hot and cold at the same time — so flustered and calm. His hands are sure and his cock is leaking against Louis’ skin and  _ fuck _ . Louis looks down at him again and Harry calms immediately. “Feels like the first time for me.”

Harry pushes some hair off of Louis’ forehead, watching the blue of his eyes eclipse from the dark, widening pupils and he agrees, “Yeah...me too.”

Louis kisses him again and this time Harry lets himself feel everything, the vulnerability, the tenderness and the heat. He lets himself get carried away with it, feeling like a teenager again but only this time he doesn’t have anything to prove. He just has to be himself.

With Louis, he thinks he can.

“There’s stuff in the drawer…” Harry says as Louis kisses down his chest. “I...I don’t...can’t wait…” he pants, feeling closer and closer to the edge. Just from kissing. From kissing Louis and his perfect mouth and feeling his body move like that on top of him. Yeah. He’s not going to last.  

Louis gives him a bright smile, his lips red and wet, eyes a bit wild. Louis smells like summertime in his bed and it makes Harry feel like he’s back home in England in a meadow under the fickle British sun. It feels rare — special, having Louis in bed with him. And thinking that Louis is going to...fuck him. It makes something inside of him lurch and then tingle with nerves. Good nerves. The kind that he knows will end in free falling.

Louis leans back with a fistful of lube and condoms. “You were prepared,” he says with a tilt of his head, straddling Harry’s hips. Harry can’t take his eyes off of his dick. It’s really, really pretty — just like the rest of Louis, but right now it’s taking everything Harry has not to flip Louis and screw himself down on it just to get it inside him. He needs it in the worst way.

“I, uh…”  he breaks off in a moan as Louis rakes his fingernails down his chest, scraping over his nipples, making heat flood his groin. “I asked Gloria to pick them up...the other day...nngghhh!” He arches off the bed as Louis attaches his lips to his right nipple, expertly rolling the other in his hand. He’s getting himself all wet and messy and Louis hasn’t gone anywhere near his hole yet. “I thought maybe after we went out for dinner…”  

Louis looks up, hair back in his face, and Harry mourns the loss of his clever mouth on his skin. “You sent Gloria?” He squawks. It’s probably the most endearing thing ever.

“I had hoped...and yeah. I couldn’t exactly...go get them myself?” Harry tries to look sheepish and he guesses it fails because Louis shakes his head and gets back to work on Harry’s nipples, making him buck off the bed. He hears Louis whisper, “wanker” against his hot, fevered skin and he’s ok being called names if it keeps Louis’ mouth, tongue and teeth on him like this.

“Come on, come on…” Harry begs, pulling lightly at Louis’ hair.  

Louis snickers and gives him a gentle bite on his pectoral muscle, right about where his heart lies buried in his chest before he’s pulling away and opening a condom wrapper. “You sure about this?”

“So sure, Louis. So, so sure…”  

Louis smiles and settles between Harry’s legs comfortably, kissing him with an open mouth, tongue slipping inside like it was made to be there. Harry grabs his face between his hands and kisses him back. It’s so, so good kissing Louis. Harry kind of never wants it to stop but he really wants to get fucked so…

He breaks the kiss and whispers, “Lou?” 

“Hm?” Louis hums against his lips, moving down his jawline and back toward his ear.  

“Sometime soon — not today — but I wanna have sex with you...um, you know.”

Louis looks down at him, confusion written all over his face. “I thought we were gonna have sex? I mean, we don’t —” 

“No, no! I want to I just…” Harry really wants to be with Louis, bare. He feels like he doesn’t have a lot of firsts he can give him but that is one thing he really wants, for himself, and for Louis. He wants it because there’s nothing between them now. And that’s something he’s actually never had with anyone else. “Not today — but soon, like after we’re tested and everything, I want you to fuck me without — bare, you know?”

Louis swallows visibly, his brow smoothing out, lips smooth and wet and he whispers, “Yeah. Yeah, ok. Want that too.” He kisses Harry then, smooth and deep, and Harry feels it right down to his bones as he sighs into it. He can feel how much Louis wants him, for  _ him _ and not for who he is or what he can get him. He feels cherished and loved and Christ, he’s gotta get a hold of himself. 

The kiss turns hot and purposeful soon enough and Harry gets lost for a moment in the insistency of Louis’ lips and tongue. He wants to memorize everything about this moment so that he can look back on it and think —  _ that’s when it happened, when I first fell in love with Louis Tomlinson.  _

And... _ what _ ?  

He must have jerked a little because Louis stops kissing him and whispers, “You ok? We don’t have to…”

“No, no! I want to. I just…” Harry searches out Louis’ eyes and sees such raw emotion there.  He’s sure his eyes are reflecting the same thing. “I’m just so thankful that you’re here, you know? Like, now. With me?”

Louis gives him a soft smile and presses a kiss to the side of his mouth. “Me too.”  

Then they’re kissing again and this time, Harry truly gets lost in it. He feels Louis move around so he can squirt lube on his fingers and for a moment his mouth is gone and Harry’s mind is hazy and he’s so aroused his cock is starting to ache with it. Then, he’s being kissed again to within an inch of his life and he’s filled with so much lust he thinks he’s probably  _ glowing  _ from it.  Louis rubs the pad of one of his fingers over Harry’s entrance and he feels a burst of white hot energy course through him. “ _ Please… _ ” he begs.

Louis doesn’t enter him right away, instead dragging it out by running his wet finger all over Harry’s rim, skipping over his hole altogether until Harry is bucking up and then back down eagerly,  _ pleasepleaseplease _ cascading over his lips like a prayer and then...then Louis slips one finger inside of him and it’s blissfully quiet for a moment. All Harry can hear is the sound of their breathing and the ocean through the closed windows and all he  _ feels  _ is Louis. He feels full in the best possible way and he ignores the slight unpleasant stretch of it in favor of reveling in the way Louis’ finger just seems to fit inside of him so neatly, so perfectly.  

Then Louis moves.

A small slide and a circle of movement equates to a fission of cracked light that explodes in Harry’s head and  _ god _ . Louis found his spot on the first try. Precome blurts from his aching cock and he shouts, catching himself in a sob as he starts begging again.  

“God, Louis... _ please _ god please...give it…” Louis starts moving his finger in slow, steady thrusts up and in and miraculously, he bumps Harry’s prostate every single fucking time and for some reason it feels like nothing he’s ever felt before. This is what it feels like, Harry thinks, to do this with someone you have honest to god real feelings for.  _ This _ is what it feels like. He’s floating and begging and clinging to the sheets with white knuckles as Louis breathes into his mouth and Harry sobs  _ pleasepleaseplease _ .

Louis adds another finger, stretching Harry wider and Harry wants to come just from this — just from getting fingered open to take Louis’ cock but he chokes out a broken “ _ stop _ ” and takes a few deep breaths as Louis’ hand is still between his legs and his lips are on his and he’s praising Harry with these sweet little words.

“Feels so good, my  _ god _ . Your body, Harry.  _ Fuck _ .” Louis licks into Harry’s mouth and Harry is lost again, unmoored by the taste of him, the feeling of Louis’ mouth on his and the way their tongues slide and greet each other in some kind of erotic dance.  

“More —” Harry whines, fucking his bum down on to Louis’ hand and Louis, god bless him, slides a third finger in and Harry shouts again, garbling out “ _ fuckyesyesyesyes _ .”  

Louis is kissing him sloppily, really just tongues running over and over each other as they breathe each other's air and it feels so intimate — like so much more than Harry ever thought sex could feel like with someone. He grabs for something, anything, and comes up with Louis’ face so he slides his fingers into his hair and yanks gently so he can angle his head for another kiss and one kiss turns into what feels like a thousand and then Louis is pulling his fingers out of Harry, making him whine deep and gruff and Louis looks at him, red faced and a little sweaty and so, so beautiful and he says, “Wanna make you mine, Harry. Mine.”

Harry whines again, this time pulling Louis on top of him so that their cocks slide against one another and Louis growls, biting down on the side of Harry’s neck and Harry almost fucking comes as the pleasure pain shoots through him. Louis must sense how close Harry is, and really, Louis isn’t doing much better. Harry can feel Louis’ precome mixing with his own along the fine hairs of his lower belly and something about that — their come swirling together in some kind of pearlescent debauchery— feels  _ dirty  _ but it makes him want to open his legs wider and get fucked so hard into the mattress he can’t see straight.  

Instead he squeezes at Louis’ arse, drawing a deep moan from Louis, and he says, “Fuck me, Lou. Come on. Wanna be yours.  _ Fuck me _ .”

Louis pushes up to his knees hurriedly and is squirting lube over his cock so quickly it would be funny if Harry weren’t so desperate. “Hurry, hurry.” Harry chants, widening his legs and pushing a pillow under his arse.

Louis leans forward and begins lining himself up before he stops himself. “Thank you Harry...I…”

Harry knows. He does. It’s a lot. This moment. And he’s so, so glad Louis feels it too — that they can share this. It’s so much. “I know, babe.”

Louis nods and presses inside of him.

Harry throws his head back, arching his neck as he feels all of the air leave his lungs. It hurts but feels so fucking good. So perfect. Being filled like this is everything Harry ever needs. Being filled by Louis — fucked by this perfect, perfect man that he’s beginning to trust with everything — feels amazing.  

“Fuck!” Harry cries out, letting himself feel  _ everything _ . He feels the slight wobble of Louis’ lip against his chin and then he can feel the damp breaths covering his face, his neck, as Louis moves on top of him until he is fully sheathed by Harry’s body.  

Louis is mouthing against his neck, hoarse and needy as he whispers, “Feel...so fucking... _ good _ .  God.  _ Harry _ .”  

It feels so, so good.  

“Ready — I’m ready,” Harry says on an exhale, still pained a little but he needs to feel Louis move inside him — needs it like oxygen right now. Needs to come, he’s denied himself too long.  

Slowly, Louis drags his cock out of Harry’s clenching body. Slowly, he thrusts back in, quivering as he does so. Harry moans, joined by the ragged exhale that passes from Louis’ lips. “Wanna watch you,” Louis grits out, pushing himself up so that the only place their bodies are touching is where Louis is buried inside of him.

Slowly Louis pulls out, slowly back in. It’s so slow, excruciatingly so, but it feels like being slowly torn apart with heat and sparking pleasure and the fire that starts to spread through his lower body makes the tenuous rhythm worth it. So, so worth it. 

“Can you come like this, baby?” Louis whispers, voice strained, as his hips pump in and out, fluidly, slowly, drawing out every swivel of his delicious hips and arse so that Harry can’t focus on anything else but the blue of his eyes and the pink of his mouth.  

Harry nods his head. Yeah, yeah, he can come like this. Wants to. Wants to come in the worst way.

“Good,” Louis grins — and he looks sexy and machiavellian at the same time and how is that possible? “Wanna fuck you nice and deep until you can’t stand it. Then... _fucking god,”_ Harry clenches down just from Louis’ gruff, broken voice. “ _Fuck_.” Louis’ hips stutter and then he’s back to his slow, deliberate pace. _“Harry_. Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

Harry wants that too. Wants it. Wants it. Wants it. All he can do is nod his head yes and meet Louis thrust for thrust, rolling his hips slowly, curving into little figure eights as much as he can and every grind in Louis’ cock massages his prostate in such a way that Harry is almost blind from it. Then, Louis presses in, right against the spot that Harry can never seem to reach himself, and Louis whispers, buried deep, deep inside of him, “Come Harry. Come for me.”

And Harry comes.

He shakes with it. He shouts out a garbled mess of swear words and Louis’ name and incoherent noises and he shoots his load all over his heaving chest and then, without warning, he feels —  _ actually feels _ — Louis come inside of him inside the condom, heat filling him as Louis falls on top of him, twitching and sobbing, dragging out Harry’s orgasm even longer from the friction of his cock trapped between their bellies.  

He’s never come like this before in his life.  _ Ever _ .  

Louis Tomlinson may have just killed him with sex. It’s probably a good thing because Harry doesn’t think he can make it for round two.  _ Ever _ .

A full moment or two goes by and then Louis is laughing, slipping out of Harry, making him wince but he can’t help it — he starts laughing too.

“That was —” Louis laughs against his heartbeat, dropping onto the mattress at Harry’s side, his head still on Harry’s chest. “So fucking good.”

Harry laughs and wipes a hand over his belly smearing their cooling come all over his skin. He likes the way it makes him feel — claimed. Marked. “It was. God.” He sighs and their laughter dies out as Harry looks down at Louis.  

Louis bites his lip and leans up to kiss him again, tongue and everything — he will never tire of Louis’ mouth on his, he swears. “Was amazing.” Louis says.

Harry agrees, humming deep in his chest. Something alights inside of him then and he realizes. They just had sex. And Harry doesn’t want to run. He doesn’t want a drink or do drugs or anything other than have Louis in his arms. It feels...amazing. He feels whole, and maybe a little sore, but he feels like he’s just unlocked the secrets to the fucking universe.

“Thank you,” he whispers, a few tears clouding his vision.

“Oh, Harry.” Louis kisses him again and again and again until they are both breathless and there’s nothing else to say or do. Except kiss again.

They kiss until Louis finally breaks away and says, “I have to pee.”

Harry giggles and lets him go, smacking him on the bum as he gets up. Louis jumps but instead of shouting or smacking Harry back he...moans? “Lou?”

“Um...I don’t suppose you can forget you just heard that?”

Harry stares at him, Louis’ cock hanging still half hard between his legs, drying come on his belly and his face flushing the most beautiful pink. “I most definitely cannot.”

Louis drops his head and sighs. “ _ Fine _ ,” he mutters, continuing on to the bathroom.

As Harry stretches his sore, slightly used body, he slowly devises all the ways he can get Louis to spill the beans. Maybe he’ll even let Harry play with his arse a little.

Spanking included.

 

***Louis***

Louis has overstayed his welcome as long as he’s been able to. It’s well past a week since he was originally supposed to leave California, and he can’t help the heavy feeling in his heart that hangs on him as soon as he wakes up in the morning. He sneaks out of Harry’s room, leaving him comfortably asleep on the bed without disturbing him. He needs some time to himself to think. He takes the familiar path to what has now also become his favorite spot. Watching the sunrise here has quickly become one of his favorite things to do ever since that first time he came with Harry. The memory of that beautiful morning and the way the sunlight reflected on Harry’s face makes his heart ache.

He takes a deep breath as he looks back on the past couple of weeks. To think Louis came here wanting to get this project over and done with as quickly as he could, and now he’s struggling with stepping on a plane back to London. His throat tightens at the mere thought of even saying goodbye to Harry. A few tears manage to escape as he thinks about the distance he and Harry will have to endure. It’s only temporary, they’ve promised each other that much, so many times. Promised it on each other’s skin as they made love, every time they kiss, every time they breathe.

Louis has his shit to figure out back in London, so he has to go back. Selling a flat, packing his things...saying goodbye to his family, at least temporarily...It’s all happening so fast but it’s everything Louis knows he wants and they decided now is a good time since filming starts for Harry next week. Just as the sun is about to rise, he feels a warm body sit closely next to him. Harry wraps his arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him into the heat of his body, nuzzling his neck.

“Why didn’t you wake me up, love?” Harry kisses Louis on top of his head, leaning on him as they watch the horizon.

Louis lets out a sigh, “I just needed a moment,” he admits. “I just…” his voice breaks and Harry shushes him.

“It’s okay baby, you don’t need to explain. I know,” Harry says and this time he kisses him on the lips. “We’re gonna be okay. I know it.”

Louis just nods in response. That’s all he can really do.

They watch the sunrise, and it’s just as beautiful as it always is, and it hits him that it’s going to be some time before he gets to watch the sunrise with this beautiful man sitting next to him. A wave of emotions overcomes Louis and suddenly he’s sobbing quietly on Harry’s shoulder. He’s crying for so many reasons, how quickly his life has changed, how full he feels at the beautiful fragility of this, their new relationship. He’s going to miss Harry but he knows that they’ll be okay.  

Harry whispers into his ear that they're fine, that they’ll be fine. And Louis believes him even though he’s going to miss him desperately — miss this, their beach, the sunrise, the ocean...

They’ve talked about it, agreed to Skype and phone calls but...they don’t know how long Louis is going to be in London before he’s able to return. Louis has to finish Harry’s autobiography— doesn’t trust anyone else to do his book justice — before he finally tells Stella that he’s done. He’s tired of waiting around for her to throw him a bone; he’s going to quit. And that’s terrifying — not having a job lined up, but he hears Harry when he tells him he can do this; he’s stronger than he knows, he can do whatever he wants. He has some ideas. But for now, he knows he needs to get his life settled in London before he begins this next chapter with Harry. 

As for Harry, he’s set to start filming in the next week –– mostly in LA, but some of the time is going to be on location in Canada. They’ve decided that Louis will wait until Harry’s going to stay put in LA since film production is notorious for not staying on schedule. There’s a lot of ‘not sures’ in this whole thing and that... just...the uncertainty of it all, is what worries Louis the most.

Without a word, Louis tilts his head to face Harry, and he surges forward to kiss him. He kisses him with so much fervor, he hopes Harry can understand the things that Louis isn’t able to form into words.  

_ I’m gonna miss you so much. I’m falling in love with you. You mean so much to me. Please wait for me. _

Before he knows it, they’re both laying down on the blanket, and Louis is working his way down Harry’s jaw, down the column of his neck, peppering kisses across his collarbones. Their shirts come off and when Louis gets his mouth around one of Harry’s nipples, Harry moans, becoming completely pliant beneath him. Louis licks and sucks, twirling his tongue in circular motions around the nub, just the way Harry likes, and Harry’s breathy little whines are like music to Louis’ ears. It only eggs Louis on, making him want to do more, more, more. He pulls Harry’s shorts down in one swift motion, thankful that his boyfriend — god, his  _ boyfriend _ , he’ll never get tired of that word — didn’t bother to put any underwear on as he begins to suckle the tip of Harry’s cock.  

“Louis...fuck!” Harry groans, bringing a hand to Louis’ hair tugging on it in encouragement. Louis can’t help but moan around Harry’s dick.

He pulls away and gazes at Harry whose eyes have gone completely dark. It’s a good thing this is a private beach they have to themselves because Louis doesn’t want anyone else to see Harry like this. This is for his eyes only.  _ His. _

Harry’s mouth is parted open and he’s looking at Louis with questioning eyes.

Louis smiles, for the first time today and says, “Fuck my mouth Haz, please. Don’t hold back.” He can’t help the way he whines, almost begging Harry to do this for him.

Harry is leaning on his arms, he tilts his head in question, “A — are you sure?”

Louis nods, “ _ Please _ .” This time it sounds more urgent, more desperate, and he doesn’t even care.

“Okay,” Harry agrees, biting his lip and tracking Louis’ every movement.  

Louis goes back in, and as soon as he does he feels the heavy weight of Harry’s hand on the back of his head. Louis places both of his hands on the thin beach blanket he’d hastily brought with him, one hand on each side of Harry’s hips, giving him the reassurance that Louis really wants this. That he really  _ needs _ this.

Harry starts a slow and steady rhythm at first, holding Louis’ head and rolling his hips up from the ground. Louis hollows out his cheeks, eliciting a moan out of both of them. That seems to spur Harry on and he finally just lets go. Suddenly his movements increase, hips snapping, and Louis can feel him going deep into his throat, and he’s loving every second of it. He hopes the ache lingers a bit afterwards, sort of as a reminder of what he has waiting for him here. A few more thrusts and Harry is coming hot and hard against Louis’ throat. Louis laps it all up, content to swallow all of Harry, to taste him — wanting to savor him and his taste as long as he can.

Harry flips them over so that he’s on top, it happens so quickly that it takes Louis a few seconds to realize what’s going on, still in stuck in his own head, thoughts of leaving Harry making the taste of Harry on his tongue feel bittersweet. The sand shifts beneath him and Harry’s kissing him, deep and filthy, before slipping down his body quickly, taking Louis’ dick into his own mouth, moaning like he’s starved for it. It doesn’t take more than a few bobs of Harry’s head before Louis’ orgasm is ripped from him and he’s shooting down Harry’s throat as well. Harry takes it all happily, greedily. He looks up at Louis, come on his lips and dripping down his chin and he smiles, making Louis roll his eyes. He’s so dirty. And he’s all Louis’.  

Harry leaves lingering kisses up Louis’ body until he settles onto his lips, letting Louis have a taste of himself. The words Louis is feeling down to his core are sitting at the tip of his tongue, but he decides to save them for another time. A happier moment.  

“I’m gonna miss you,” he decides to admit instead.

Harry looks down at him, his eyes are so green and perfect and he kisses Louis again. “I’m gonna miss you too, so much,” he whispers against Louis’ lips. They lay next to each other, encircled in each other’s arms, until they’re forced to get up so that Louis won’t miss his flight.

 

 

***Harry***

“Oh god. Fuck  _ Harry _ !”

Harry’s tongue slides from Louis’ balls all the way up and around Louis’ hole. He knows he’s being a tease, but he can’t really help himself with the way Louis is whining, begging.

“Harry please,  _ please _ !” Music to Harry’s ears.

Finally, finally he decides to put Louis out of his misery and gives him what he wants. He slides his tongue inside of Louis’ hole and as soon as he does Louis clenches around it. So greedy. He works himself in and out, spreading Louis’ arse cheeks to give himself more room to work with. Being buried in Louis’ arse is one of Harry’s favorite things in the world. He’s so warm and inviting, and he smells so good. He tastes even better.  

“Fuck baby, you taste so good,” Harry groans, voice muffled as he buries himself in deeper. He slides a shiny, wet finger alongside his tongue and moves around experimentally until Louis keens. There. There it is.  

“More Harry, please.”

Before he knows it, Harry’s got three fingers working themselves in and out of Louis while he nibbles and bites one of his arse cheeks making sure to leave his mark. He kisses up Louis’ spine until he reaches his ear to whisper, “I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.”  

Louis practically mewls, “Yes, yes,  _ please _ .”

Harry slides his fingers out of Louis as he reaches for the lube again, making sure to coat his dick evenly. He’s so hard it hurts. Louis is still on all fours and he’s looking over his shoulder as he watches Harry line himself up. One of Harry’s hands holds onto Louis’ hip while the other one guides his cock to enter Louis, slow and steady. As soon as he nudges inside, Louis lets out a sigh as if he’s relieved to finally have Harry inside of him. Harry concentrates as hard as he can not to come. Louis is so  _ tight _ , his heat enveloping him in the best possible way and Harry finds himself needing a moment. He shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths until he’s fully immersed, completely connected with the love of his life.

Louis opens and closes his fists into the sheets beneath him, as if he’s bracing himself for what’s coming, before he drops to his forearms, giving Harry a better hold on his hips. Harry stays inside Louis’ impossibly tight heat, as deep as he can go and he undulates his hips just the way he knows makes Louis completely crazed.  

“ _ God… _ ” Louis groans, wriggling and trying to fuck himself on Harry’s cock. Harry holds him firm and keeps fucking up inside of him, deep and slow. “Fucking tease.” Louis sounds exasperated but Harry knows he loves this — knows it gets him so hot so fast. Each roll of his hips has Louis moaning louder and louder. He sounds  _ obscene _ .  

Finally, Harry takes pity on him and he pulls his cock almost all the way out and then snaps his hips,  _ hard _ . “Fuck,” Louis grunts, sliding up the bed, despite Harry’s grip on him.  

“Feel…” Harry’s hips slap against Louis’ arse. “So...fucking…” Louis cries out on the harsh thrust of Harry’s cock into his body and Harry’s sure he’s found the right angle.  

“Harder. Harder. I can…” Louis clenches and shouts as Harry picks up the pace, hammering into him ruthlessly now. “I can take it,” Louis whines. And he really doesn’t sound like he can take it — he sounds like he’s going to shoot his load any second. It makes Harry’ cock twitch inside him and it makes him feel like he’s the fucking king of the world — making Louis come is like...his life’s mission or something. And he’s determined to be a master at it.

Harry does the one thing that he knows, absolutely knows, without a doubt will drive Louis over the edge. He brings his hand back and counts to three in his head, hips still pumping forward and then he brings his hand down swiftly on the firm swell of Louis’ arse cheek. Louis yelps and falls forward, his whole body tensing up and Harry watches as he arches his back and whispers to the heavens, hoarse and desperate, “Again!”

Harry spanks him again.

And then his boy is coming, making a mess all over himself and the towel Harry carefully placed below him and he’s shaking and swearing and  _ Christ _ , he feels so fucking good squeezing Harry’s cock, almost as if he’s trying to get him deeper inside of him.  

Harry barely has a moment to catch his breath, his palm still tingling, eyes stuck on the red handprint like a badge of honor on Louis’ bum, when Louis flips them over and he takes Harry’s cock and guides it back inside of himself. Fuck. Louis’ own cock is  _ still hard  _ and Harry has to close his eyes so he doesn’t get distracted and come right now. He wants to. God. He wants to.

Harry’s back is now against the headboard and Louis’ got his arms wrapped around his shoulders as he swivels his hips into maddening circles. Harry’s hands grab a hold of Louis’ arsecheeks and he spreads them as Louis continues to fuck himself. Just like Harry knew a few well placed smacks to Louis’ sinful arse would drive him over the edge, Louis knows that the way to Harry’s orgasm is to keep him deep and close and to whisper complete filth into his ears. 

“So good to me, baby,” he pants against Harry’s ear. “Know just how to fuck me right, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Harry drops his head to Louis neck and mouths at the skin there. He can’t really kiss him properly, he’s too overwhelmed, but he moans helplessly as Louis fucks himself harder, deeper.  “Lou —” he whines, feeling fire build in his gut and his legs start to tremble, unable to fuck into his boyfriend’s hot, willing body any longer.

“Love your cock in me, Hazza baby. Feels so good when you split me open like this…” Louis’ voice is deep and husky, just above a whisper — such a contrast to the pornographic sounds he was making just a moment before.  

“Yeah — Yeah. Love you. Love it too.” Harry grunts between labored breaths as he kneads the firm swell of Louis’ arse. God the arse on him.  

Louis moves his arms off of Harry’s shoulders and he brings Harry’s hands between them.  Staring Harry in the eyes, Louis takes Harry’s right hand and, opening his mouth wide, sucks four of Harry’s fingers into his mouth.  

Harry’s hips stutter and he moans. “F —fuck!” He realizes then that Louis has stopped moving but when he tries to move his fingers, maybe get the upper hand for a change, Louis lets his hand go, dripping with saliva, and places it on his cock. 

“Babe. Want you to get me off again. Know you like it when I come when you’re inside me.”

Something snaps inside Harry and he whines as he starts stripping Louis off hard and proper — Louis loses his faltering rhythm but keeps at it, leaning forward so that Harry’s hand is practically trapped between them. He kisses Harry, deep and so fucking filthy Harry feels like he’ll need to say a rosary after this. Louis bites down on Harry’s bottom lip and then he whispers, “Fucking love your cock baby.”

Harry feels his body tremble right before he’s coming deep inside his boyfriend and that’s what does it for Louis as he comes for the second time in less than 30 minutes. Harry buries his face into Louis’ neck, trying to catch his breath. He smells like sweat and sex, and an endless evergreen forest. He smells like home.  

Louis loosens the hold he has around Harry, grimacing down at the sticky mess between them and undoubtedly the soreness in his arse. But still, he kisses Harry slow and sweet, making Harry want to explode with how much love is between them right now.

“I love you so much, so so much, Lou.” Harry feels so happy he could burst. Having this man in his arms, getting to sleep and wake up next to him, Harry wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Louis’ face brightens, he smiles as he tiredly gazes at Harry, “I love you too.”

Reluctantly Harry moves Louis so he can disentangle their bodies, Louis wincing as Harry pulls out. After a few long moments of laying on their backs, staring at the ceiling, Harry finally hops off the bed on shaky legs to walk towards the ensuite to grab them a wet washcloth. On his way out, he stubs his toe on one of the boxes laying around the room.

Harry huffs and rolls his eyes, “Lou...when are you going to finish unpacking these boxes?” He wipes himself off and helps Louis as well.

Louis sits on the bed and gives Harry that look. The one he knows he can’t stay mad at, “Don’t worry Haz, I’ll get them done.”

Harry finds a clean pair of boxer briefs and puts them on, “I told you, you should just let Gloria take care of it. She’s more than happy to help you.”

Louis crosses his arms, looking less than formidable, naked and wrapped up in their sex stained sheets. “And I told her –– and you –– multiple times, that it’s not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of unpacking a few boxes.”

Harry keeps himself from saying that if he would have let Gloria do it Harry wouldn’t have stubbed his toe, but he’s learning to pick his battles and all that. He’s still getting used to having Louis all moved in. He’s still getting used to having a boyfriend, someone to share his life with, his  _ everything _ with. A few boxes is really nothing in the grand scheme of things.  

Louis has only technically been moved in for a few days, but Harry feels like it's been longer. They’d traveled to see each other as much as they could over the past few months and Louis slowly became his person to turn to for everything. Now he takes up every corner of his life and it’s so much better than he ever thought it could be. His favorite part, however, he thinks with a sly look toward said, still naked boyfriend, is the fact that he can fuck Louis whenever they damn well please,  _ wherever _ they damn well please.  

Harry rolls his eyes fondly, “What am I going to do with you, Louis?” He opens his wardrobe trying to decide what he wants to wear for the day.

“Love me and give me all the blowjobs I want?” Louis says. Harry just laughs and throws him a pair of balled up socks.

“You’re impossible.”

He finishes getting dressed, while Louis watches with a fond look on his face.

“You ready for your last day of filming?” Louis asks.

Harry grins, “Ready as I’ll ever be. I can’t believe it’s already been five months. Feels like just yesterday I was calling you and Chantel, panicked on my first day.”

Louis gets out of the bed, still naked, his flaccid dick flopping around as he walks over to Harry to wrap his arms around his neck. Harry notices, with a twinge of pride, that he is waddling a little. Well-fucked, he thinks, smirking to himself. Louis kisses him softly on the lips. “I’m so proud of you baby. I can’t wait to watch the movie as many times as I can and tell whoever will listen that my boyfriend is in the film.” He kisses Harry again.

Harry breathes Louis in, he’s still warm and he smells so fucking good — like sex, and them, and outdoors. It’s heavenly. He really doesn’t want to leave him. “Mmm and I’m proud of you too. You meeting up with Niall today?”

Louis’ eyes meet Harry’s, a small smile on his face, “Not today. He filled me in on everything at lunch yesterday so I’m all set for my first day of work on Monday.”

Louis had finally given in and let his friend help him by using his connections in the industry. Niall was able to hook him up with a producer who was looking for a screenwriter for a new, up and coming show that had a lot of promise. Louis hasn’t been able to stop talking about it ever since he went to his interview. Everyone on the staff is already in love with him, no surprise to Harry, and Harry couldn’t be more proud.

“Did you tell him about the party we’re throwing on Saturday?”

Louis’ smile falls, “Shit I forgot, I’ll call him and let him know.”

They’re throwing a 'wrap/we moved in together/Louis got a new job/look at us we’re so in love party' over the weekend. Well, mostly a l _ ook at us we’re so in love _ party. They really are disgusting. It’s terrible.  

“Sounds good. I’ve got to get going, or else I’m gonna be late,” Harry leans in to kiss Louis one last time. He lets it linger a bit this time, savoring a bit more in his taste, his smell, his  _ everything _ . He closes his eyes and takes it all in. This is what his life is going to be like from now on. Lazy mornings, where he struggles to get out of bed, not wanting to get out of the warmth of his boyfriend’s arms. Sacrificing his breakfast in exchange for losing themselves in each other before work. Getting ready for work with a naked Louis laying in bed, watching his every move, taunting him. Sweet kisses goodbye, promising to see each other at home after work. Making dinner plans with friends, going on double dates with his best friends.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever have any sense of normalcy after everything he’d been through. Now, here he is, reluctant to leave his boyfriend behind as he goes to his last day of shooting a movie for Christopher Nolan. His life is really very fucking unreal.

“Bye darling. I love you,” Louis kisses him again, “See you for dinner?”

Harry nods, he’s smiling so big he knows his dimples are showing, he feels like he can light up a room with how happy he is right now. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! We love kudos and comments :)
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr:[dimpled-halo](https://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com/%E2%80%9C) and [a-writerwrites](https://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/%E2%80%9C)
> 
> You can reblog our fic post [here](https://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com/post/161860560959/carry-this-feeling)


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